


Lay My Burden Down

by k_rose_m (Flipkat)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 04:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 95,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8087860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flipkat/pseuds/k_rose_m
Summary: Some trolls can carry eggs; they are marked with a blood-colored streak in their hair. It’s a rare but not unheard-of trait, usually found on the cold end of the spectrum. However, if they’re actually carrying eggs, it means someone’s taken them on as a slave – a “breeder.” In other words, they were hatched to privilege, but seriously messed up somewhere. Because a breeder slave belongs to whoever last used them as a pail…Dualscar Ampora, heavy with a clutch gotten on a fellow slave, is “rescued” by someone who turns out to be his own descendant. But the world he returns to is not as he remembers it! Suddenly surrounded by strangely familiar (and friendly?) faces, security for himself and his eggs is his most pressing concern - but will he ever figure out what the hell is going on?…Who are we kidding, he’s an Ampora.Luckily, he’ll have help – if Eridan can ever get his act together. But everyone’s got secrets to hide… A kinkmeme fill that took on a life of its own! I’ve managed to fit in a surprising amount of the original prompt. The fill started on the prompt’s repost here:http://homesmut.dreamwidth.org/38154.html?thread=39085066#cmt39085066





	1. Arrivals and Departures, Part 1

There were alarms going off in the hallway. A drill, perhaps. He ignored them, and tried to resume napping. He was exempt from drills; _his_ room was protected, sealed off.

Except suddenly it wasn’t. He jerked fully awake as his door was wrenched from its frame. The alarms still blared, but at reduced volume, indicating at least a partial loss of power. There were voices outside, in the hall: male, female. A smallish seadweller wielding an oversized gun peered warily into the room, and he shrank back, cowering automatically behind his small cushion pile, trying futilely to both make himself look smaller and protect his visibly protruding belly. He began babbling instinctively, not looking up at the invader. “Don’t hurt me, please! I’m carrying eggs, the Helmsman’s brood, they’ll be good strong psionics, they always are, I _promise_ – ”

The intruder at the door stepped fully into the room, slowly, cautiously, still cradling his rifle – and he was so _small_ , and _totally unfamiliar_! Had they picked up new recruits somewhere? – and stopped a few paces away, regarding him quizzically.  
“…Dualscar?”  
The name rang faint bells, but he’d been just _breeder_ so long, he barely remembered – wait – _Dee_. “Yes?” he hazarded.

His visitor relaxed a bit at that, then grew agitated again, pacing around and mouthing something to himself. Dualscar regarded him warily from the corner of one eye, unsure of his intentions. Shortly, the caller seemed to reach a decision, and turned back to him, pausing to stow his gun.  
“I’vve got to get you out of here – you can wwalk, right? Come on!”  
A hand tugged his wrist insistently. Dualscar cringed back, resisting the pull; his fins squeezed shut and flattened protectively against his face. “I can’t,” he begged. “I can’t go with you, you’re not my master, I’m supposed to stay here –”

His hand was dropped. His guest was staring at him – he must be highly annoyed, Dualscar guessed, cowering further and wrapping his arms around his belly again.  
“Are you tryin’ to tell me you can’t _leavve the room_ unless your _master_ says it’s okay?”  
He flinched at the acerbic tone. “Yes,” he offered miserably, without raising his eyes. There was some more muttering and stomping around above him; he caught a _don’t have time for this_ , and then –  
“Wwait here!”  
– as if there were somewhere else he could _go_. His visitor darted to the door, and held a hurried, quiet conversation with whoever he’d left guarding it. She sounded upset, discouraging; he was persistent, equally frustrated. After a few moments, he returned, looking firm. Dualscar swallowed, drawing back a bit further. He refused to flatten himself against the wall; that would be silly and undignified. This – whatever he was – was only half his size!

“If _I’m_ your master, you’ll come wwith me wwithout fightin’, right?”  
Dualscar’s eyes widened. He couldn’t mean. _No._ “Yes.”  
“Then.” A hand approached his shoulder; Dualscar quailed. “You mean to claim me?”  
“ _Yes_ ,” very firm indeed.  
He forced out a desperate protest. “But I’m carrying eggs, a very valuable brood! You can’t do anything rough to me right now, wouldn’t you rather wait, just a few more perigees? Hardly any time for a seadweller like yourself!” He chanced a beseeching look at his assailant’s face. Panicked eyes met stern ones.  
“I understand, but I can’t wwait. I’ll be gentle,” and the voice _was_ gentle, but he couldn’t bring himself to trust so easily. “I promise.” A hand gesture, obviously _lie back_. Out of  
options, he complied.

He whined as he was taken, nervous still. Would someone not come bursting in to kill this interloper, or would they be stopped by his companion in the hall? Did he not matter enough anymore to be worth keeping? Had she had all she wanted of him, had he displeased her somehow? Or was it just that the alarms had distracted those who were meant to keep watch on him, and no one knew he was being stolen? The thief was obviously no virgin, but was that really why he had come? Was this, instead, all part of an elaborate setup for him to be given to this newcomer as an unexpected gift, a sort of “go through that door and whatever you find is yours to claim?” (Was there no one monitoring him after all?)

Soon enough, his new master finished, and put himself back into order hastily. Then he grabbed at Dualscar’s arm again. “Come on.” The voice from the hall spoke up: something about going on ahead. “Wwe’re coming!” Dualscar attempted to clean himself up and straighten his tunic with his free arm; the usually barely-modest length was made quite risqué by the additional girth of the eggs. He looped the end of his braid around his wrist, lest it drag on the floor, and then let himself be towed out the door and down the hall.

Down a _number_ of halls, it turned out, through unfamiliar service hatches and access tubes that could barely accommodate him, to a non-descript airlock that proved, after passing through, to be the temporary dock for an _obviously_ non-regulation shuttle. It appeared, from the inside at least, to have been assembled entirely from mismatched bits of scrap.  
Dualscar relaxed. Any ship so painstakingly put together would have been subject to much more rigorous testing than the standard shuttles and escape pods that had stood unused for centuries. No disorganized raid, this. “Everyone in?” called a harsh voice from the forward compartment.  
There was a clang and a hissing whoosh as the door closed and sealed behind him. “That’s all of us, Vantas,” came a gravely reply from the doorway, “plus a few more.”

Turning to look over his shoulder, Dualscar saw it was a blueblood. A _young_ blueblood, much of a size with his new master. Briefly he fretted; if there were other seadwellers that same size about, he’d have to take pains to learn his master’s face, and soon. He stood there uncertainly, ducking his head to avoid the low ceiling. Was he meant to sit on the benchlike couches in front of him? Was he allowed to? There were a number of trolls there already, and not much room left. They were all undersized – all _young_ , and Dualscar was perplexed. Were these newly arrived recruits? And where _was_ his master? None of these trolls were seadwellers; they seemed to range the spectrum from what he could see of the lightly injured ones, so why had they all come to the flagship, which nowanights did mostly administration and long-range scouting? His curiosity and ability to guess at possible explanations were failing him, but luckily his master had reappeared from the forward compartment, just as something started sparking from the rear. “Ready to go back here!” called a staticky voice, like an intercom, but without a speaker. _A psionic_ , recognized Dualscar, _using his powers; probably preparing to launch this craft_. His master flopped on the couch, taking up all the remaining room. “C’mere,” he beckoned. Hesitant, a bit unsure, Dualscar knelt on the floor next to his legs. 

Suddenly, the shuttle was thrown forward; Dualscar tumbled onto his master’s lap as annoyed shouts filled the cabin. “Thorry,” came the crackling voice again, sounding smug. Cringing apologetically, Dualscar made to get up, but a hand at his shoulder steadied him, and another hand curled around the back of his head. “You okay?” He nodded, and got a relieved grin in response. The hand on his head patted him. “Good. Just...stay here, I guess.” After a moment he leaned forward again and pillowed his head on his master’s knee. He decided to try to doze off; it had been an exhausting – evening? afternoon? He couldn’t even be sure anymore, and he was too worn out for thinking. The soft voices around him were pleasant rather than irritating. He shut his eyes.

When he opened them again, everything _hurt_. His neck, his back, his knees, even his _feet_ ached, and he hadn’t even been standing on them much lately! He was hungry and uncomfortable – _and surrounded by people_. He forced himself back to calm. The hand on his head was still patting him slowly, mindlessly caressing his hair now and then. The murmured voices from before had died down into the soft breathing of peaceful sleep. The lights had been dimmed, maybe to conserve power. His master was conversing in whispers with someone who was standing over both of them.  
“Here you go.” The voice he’d though harsh before now sounded simply hoarse, but kind, as if the speaker had done a lot of shouting lately. “Sorry it’s not much.” 

_Food?_ thought Dualscar, a brief spark of hope. He shifted so he could look up. His master was drinking a cup of water; he was suddenly thirsty. The standing troll caught his eyes briefly before Dualscar could look away. “Thanks, Kar,” his master was saying gratefully. He’d drunk about half the cup. The...not a servant, not a pilot, what? Dualscar settled on _friend_. His master’s friend jerked his head meaningfully toward Dualscar, raising an eyebrow. 

“Eh? Oh! Uh, you must be thirsty too. Here, you can havve this.” The cup was offered to him; he accepted it, whispering his thanks, and took a swallow, looking questioningly at his master. “No, go on, you can finish it.” He did so, and handed back the cup, which was dutifully passed back to the troll who’d delivered it, who disappeared forward again. The cabin fell silent. Mentally shrugging, Dualscar returned to his nap, for lack of anything better to do. He really wasn’t up for conversation at the moment, although he’d of course stay awake if his master engaged him. Better to feign sleepiness than interest. When he was feeling irritable, his tongue could easily get him into trouble.

When he woke again the cabin was mostly empty, and there was a light streaming in from the open doorway as the last few stragglers departed. The hand at his hair had resumed its gentle ministrations. “You awwake?” came his master’s voice. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.” Dualscar was aware that a certain tension had drained out of the air, as if familiar comforts were just around the corner.

He scrambled back as his master rose, and managed to shove himself mostly upright, and stagger through the door after him. Once outside, he stretched his back and winced. He wanted a proper bath and a hot meal, but before that – “Bathroom?” he inquired.  
His master laughed, a friendly sound, pointed – “Just ovver there” – and accompanied him.


	2. Arrivals and Departures, Part 2

Immediate needs seen to, Dualscar began to take in his surroundings. The air was dizzyingly thin; the hive they’d entered large, but not new. His master was speaking with a smaller troll, one he hadn’t seen earlier.

“Eq’s done already? That wwas quick.”  
Dualscar kept his eyes down, but recognized the other troll from his reply: the psionic from the shuttle.  
“Yeah, he thaid it’th jutht a temp thet and he’ll have thomething more permanent ready in a couple of nightth, tho he’ll need to come back. Athuming, of courthe, he hath thomewhere to _go_ in the meantime.”  
It made him faintly nostalgic for his own psionic – worlds away, by now, and maybe for good. He felt a small pang in his heart. Perhaps, when more psionics were wanted, he’d be bred to this smaller one instead. From the way they were elbowing each other, this was obviously one of his master’s black friends, at least – someone on good terms. Surveying their disorganized surroundings, his master concluded “Yeah, I’d havve to agree that he can’t stay here. And Vvris is right out, too, for obvvious reasons. Wwe’vve got limited options.” He turned back to Dualscar.

“You told me you wwere carrying the helmsman’s grubs, right? Are you on good terms wwith him?”  
_Present tense?_ A flicker of – something – passed through Dualscar’s mind. “Yes,” he agreed readily. _We’re fond of each other, but I don’t need that held over my head, so you don’t need to know it._  
“Perfect!” and he could _hear_ the grin in the voice, but was it friendly or cruel? “You can look after him wwhile he recovvers. Followw me.” Bewildered, heart pounding, he dogged his master’s footsteps up stairways, down halls, and finally to a quiet inner room where a temporary curtain partition had been rigged up. His master pulled the curtain aside and gestured theatrically. 

“Ψ!” And it was Ψ, lying on a narrow padded table, still as death. No: he yet breathed. Dualscar felt his own breath catch, and took an involuntary step forward as his master made a shushing motion.  
“He’s comin’ off the anesthetic noww. Be careful wwith him, okay?” Dualscar nodded fervently, and his master nudged him forward and dropped the curtain behind him. Footsteps retreated back into the hall.

Dualscar stepped forward and gripped the edge of the table. It _was_ Ψ, beyond a doubt, but with new shiny metal forearms and legs showing through the remains of his beloved ratty old flight suit. He checked out the additions appraisingly; the articulation needed work and the knees looked a bit stiff, but it was very good work for a rush job. _Especially considering that they couldn’t have had any of this ready before that madcap raid, unless the builder was in the habit of making adult-sized prosthetic limbs for his own amusement. They had no way of knowing what they’d find on that ship, short of rumors hundreds of sweeps old_. And yet, they’d wound up hauling two adults back with them – admittedly, probably the most obviously useful adults on board. Depending on the intended use. 

Dualscar shivered, and hoisted himself up to sit on the table, then rolled over slowly, carefully, to face Ψ. As he’d thought, there was room for them both, just barely. He sighed peacefully – it felt good to get off his feet. He’d nearly injured them by stepping on discarded mechanical bits several times on the way upstairs. Softly, he ran the back of his hand over Ψ’s cheek. Ψ flinched and grunted, eyelids fluttering and blinking, and finally opening fully. He stiffened suddenly, then, after a moment, relaxed. He lifted an arm, holding one of his new hands in front of his face, mouth stretching into a crazy grin. Dualscar felt himself grinning in response, and Ψ turned a bit toward him. “Dee?” he asked groggily.

“Yes, it’s me,” Dualscar reassured him. “We’ve been stolen, it seems.” Ψ dropped his new hand heavily to his chest, and then began inching it over toward Dualscar. Evidently finding that too slow, he managed, with effort, to roll onto his side so they were facing each other. He raised his arm again and flopped it over Dualscar’s side.

Was he attempting a hug? Smiling, Dualscar brought one hand up to Ψ’s neck and wrapped the other around his waist in an answering embrace. Ψ had managed, by dint of concentration or possibly levitation, to free his other arm, and splayed the metal hand across Dualscar’s swollen belly wonderingly. “I’ve never theen you like thith,” he said, in admiring awe.  
Dualscar snorted. “Of course you haven’t.”

“It’s _amathing_ ,” Ψ offered shyly. “ _You’re_ amathing.” They shifted a bit closer, Ψ moving to nuzzle Dualscar’s neck with questionable aim. Dualscar patted at his head a bit to guide him, and they relaxed into each other’s warmth for a moment. Then, Ψ spoke up, sounding aggrieved. 

“Dee.”  
“Yes?”  
“ _Dee_.”  
“What is it?”  
“Dee, thothe _kidth_.”  
“What _about_ them, Ψ?”  
Clear frustration. “None of them can thay my _name_ right, Dee!”  
“The language has shifted,” Dualscar confirmed, rubbing the back of Ψ’s head. “Pronunciations, definitely. There’s probably some new vocabulary too.”  
“But they’re thaying it _wrong!_ ”  
“Not like you could demonstrate for them, is it? I’ll sympathize when you learn to say more of _my_ name.” This was a tired old jab that had long since lost its sting, but the familiarity, the back-and-forth worthless whinging over nothings, was a comfort and a relief.

Ψ’s hand crept lower, and rubbed uncertainly over the edge of his tunic. “Dee, you’re wearing clotheth?”  
“Barely,” Dualscar confirmed. He attempted a light laugh. “You’re practically in rags and I daresay you’re better dressed than I am.”  
Ψ took on a mischievous look. His hand dipped lower and he kissed the side of Dualscar’s mouth crookedly. _What?_  
Belatedly, Dualscar realized he should’ve expected this sort of reaction. If being an emaciated partial amputee had never cooled Ψ’s lust, then why should being drugged? He attempted to forestall the inevitable. “Hold on – Ψ, stop it! You don’t have to do that anymore!”  
“Oh, _Dee_ ,” Ψ sighed. “I wathn’t jutht doing it becauthe I _had_ to all thothe timeth. I _wanted_ to. I _wanted_ you to have me! It felt good, being with you. Can’t I make you feel good too?” He sounded endearingly plaintive, and for an instant Dualscar thought _what would it hurt_ , to let him have his way, but –  
“No,” he said, trying to sound firm. “My master wouldn’t approve.” That was all right, wasn’t it? And probably true besides. That should be enough. He didn’t need all the other reasons, _I’m sore and hungry and jittery with nerves and carrying eggs besides._ Ψ would understand.

Evidently, Ψ _didn’t_ understand. One metal hand had wandered between Dualscar’s legs and was rubbing a bit too forcefully around his nook. The other had begun firmly fondling his ass. He whimpered. “Ψ, stop, please…”  
“You don’t _need_ a mathter,” Ψ informed him. Dualscar was taken aback. “ _I’ll_ protect you and take care of you. We’re on a _planet_ , Dee, or thomething too big to move. We can jutht _run_. There’th nothing fathter than me, you know. We’ll find a thafe plathe. Or _make_ one.”

Dualscar squirmed. There were metal fingers inside him now, moving too fast, pressing too hard. “ _Stop_ , Ψ! You can’t! Don’t do this!” He grabbed at Ψ‘s shoulders. He was trapped, he realized; he had trapped himself. He couldn’t push Ψ off him without one or the other of them tumbling backwards off the narrow table and possibly sustaining serious injury from the fall. What if he split Ψ’s skull, when someone had just gone to the trouble of patching him back together? What if he damaged his eggs?  
“I _won’t_ thtop! My god, Dee, you deserve _better_!” Ψ was shouting, now, and Dualscar cried out in pain as the other metal hand ran too roughly over his gills. Done more gently, it would have been an intimate lover’s touch; in another time and place, the whole conversation would have been romantic, but here, now, it was just – too much. Dualscar covered his eyes and sobbed.

Angry voices burst out from the doorway. “Wwhat the _fuck’s_ goin on in here?” The curtain was thrown aside. Briefly, all was cacophony and confusion. “Oh _fuck_ no! Get off him!” A buzzing, then red and blue flashes tore Ψ away from him. He realized he was floating just a moment before he was carefully lowered to the floor. He collapsed onto his knees, still crying, and hugged the legs next to him, trying to hide his face: his master. He’d seen them, and he was angry. On the other side of the room, there was a conversation between two people both trying to shout in a whispered lisp, to the effect of _the hell you think you’re doing?_  
“God.” His master pulled one leg away, and knelt to hug him. _Not angry, then?_ “Me and my bright ideas.” _Why isn’t he mad at me?_ Dualscar snuffled a few moments more, struggling to get himself back under control. _Is he mad at Ψ instead? Please don’t hurt Ψ._ Finally he pulled back, wiping at his face with one arm, and took a good hard _(rude, staring)_ look at his new master. The eyes still had grey in them, _subadult,_ the horns were _very familiar_ , and -  
His _hair_. He had a _breeder’s streak_. It was illegal to feign or hide that. Suddenly the abduction made a whole _different_ kind of sense to Dualscar. He was obviously too young to have bred yet, he must’ve wanted – a mentor? Someone to talk to about it? But no, there was still a missing connection. Those _horns_. He reached up to one unthinkingly and his master caught his hand. Dualscar shrank back, stammering an apology. “It’s all right,” said his master, unconcerned. “Do you get it noww?” and the accent _was_ familiar, but so long forgotten! Had it really been his voice that had sounded like that, once upon a time? “I’m your descendent. Nevver thought I’d get ta meetcha though.” He pointed across the room. “And ovver there, too.”

Dualscar turned, still bewildered, and beheld Ψ, and – _another_ Ψ, right down to the horns and lisp, only much smaller, and without the metal, and wearing glasses. He wondered briefly what had become of Ψ’s goggles, but their loss would not be mourned. They were both floating, under whose power he could not tell, and spitting insults at each other. Dualscar had a general sense that someone ought to do something about that, but he didn’t feel up to it himself, so he kept his mouth shut. He was just too drained. He leaned heavily against his master, who patted his shoulder, somewhere between reassuring and condescending. “Can you wwalk?” he asked a moment later. “I wwanna get outta here, and go home.” Dualscar nodded, rubbing the last traces of tears off his face. They stood up together and walked out of the room, Dualscar grateful for even the meager support of the arm around his waist.

They had descended but a single level when his master froze, then facepalmed. “ _Shit._ ” He looked around, then began throwing open doors on both sides of the hallway. Dualscar stood watching him, puzzled, only following him when it was clear he was working his way further down the hall. 

Eventually, he seemed to find one that contained what he wanted. “Kan!” he yelled. Dualscar arrived behind him in time to see a young lady look up at him, over the back of a sofa.  
“What is it?”   
“I gotta go back and re-hash out wwith Sol wwhere Psii’s gonna stay. I need you ta look after Dualscar for a bit. He’s had a rough night.” She raised an eyebrow, but gave a brief nod, and his master left without further comment.

Awkwardly, Dualscar stepped into the room and stood just inside the door, regarding her. Was he meant to do anything? Just wait? After a long moment she cleared her throat. “Well, you’re welcome to come in, but you certainly don’t have to stay in here if I’m making you uncomfortable. You can wait in the hall, if you’d rather.” He absorbed this, and gave her a brief nod, but did not move. “Ah. Please excuse my rudeness, but we haven’t been properly introduced. I am Kanaya.”

“Dualscar,” he offered cautiously, and he heard a _clink_ of crockery as she set something down before she came around the sofa to press her hand to his in a formal greeting. He realized he was ravenous; his stomach growled a complaint. _Shush, you_ , he chided it mentally. _That’s not helpful._

It was more helpful than he knew; Kanaya looked at him quizzically as she released his hand. “You haven’t eaten?” He shook his head, and her eyes grew sharp. “ _Damn_ that idiot!” 

She scurried behind the sofa again and fetched back a plate of small decorated teacakes and pastries. Handing him the plate, she returned to her table. Dualscar stuffed the nearest cake in his mouth – something with sticky pink-and-white frosting – and sat down cross-legged on the floor to tackle the rest.  
Kanaya returned with the teapot and cup. “I’m afraid that the tea’s gone a bit cool, and I’ve only the one cup. I hope you don’t mind.” He shook his head, hand to his mouth to hold in crumbs; she brought him a napkin, and then knelt next to him, hands in her lap. When there was but a single cake and half-cup of tea remaining, he looked up at her gratefully.  
“ _Thank_ you, my lady.”  
She seemed amused by that, but her smile was soon replaced by the stern expression she’d been wearing as she eyed him while he ate. “…Those are your only clothes, aren’t they,” she concluded with a sigh. “Good gracious. May I take your measurements?” 

He cocked his head at her for a moment. “Yes,” he told her, frankly amazed that anyone would care. She was well-dressed herself, her clothes obviously tailored for her body, if a bit the worse for wear – from the previous day’s activities, he guessed. If she made her own clothes, it must be something she enjoyed, and he wouldn’t deny her that pleasure. He got up slowly, brushing a last few crumbs off his belly onto the plate. She pulled out a bright yellow flexible measuring tape.  
“Hold this end to your shoulder, please. And stand up straight.” He pulled his shoulders back, moving one hand supporting his belly as she measured his lower half. Her hands were soft and her touch businesslike. “Are you going to increase any further?” she asked as she wrapped the tape around his waist.  
“A bit,” he confirmed. “Just a couple inches, maybe, not a substantial amount.”  
She frowned into her notepad. “Elastic waists, I should think. Hmm. Do you prefer pants or skirts?”  
“Pants?” he guessed. At least, he couldn’t recall preferring skirts.  
She made a note. “Have you any preference for fabric or pattern?”  
“No,” he admitted, as he knelt carefully at her gesture to let her measure his arms and shoulders. Perhaps he’d had one, once, but he couldn’t remember it now. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Something like Eridan wears, then.” He blinked at her; she seemed confused by his confusion. 

“…The troll you came in with,” she filled in helpfully, “and I am _seriously_ going to hit him.”  
Dualscar flinched away. “Ah.” She touched his shoulder softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t really mean that. He’s just so _dense_ sometimes, thinking everyone thinks as he does.” She shook her head, and moved behind him to measure his back, neck, upper arms, more lengths and diameters than he ever remembered having. He giggled as he felt her measuring his _hair._ “No, I’m not planning to make a sleeve for it,” she said with perfect dignity. “I was simply curious.” 

Eventually she’d gotten all she needed from behind him. “Will you sit so I can measure your feet properly?” she asked, coming around. “And what do you like for shoes?”  
“Sea boots,” he answered at once, “good waterproof boots, with a hard heel and a soft toe, that match my coat.” He stopped and actually thought about it. “Or short slippers if I’m just going to be indoors lounging around, I suppose. I really don’t know what I’ll need.”  
She was nodding, making notes on her pad. “I can’t make those, but I believe I can order them. I’ll try to get a style that goes with the rest of your garments.”

An unhappy thought struck him. “I’ll need several sizes of everything, won’t I?” He covered his belly self-consciously, earfins drooping. “As it is, I won’t be able to wear anything for even a whole sweep without growing – or shrinking – out of it. Probably shoes, too.”  
Kanaya nodded, evidently unconcerned. “Well, getting you properly clothed in _something_ is my first concern. Then if it doesn’t fit, I can adjust it, and if it’s hideous, you’ll at least be dressed while I make a replacement.”  
He smiled at that – nothing this young lady made could possibly be hideous. Doubtless her own good taste would forbid such an obvious insult against fashion from passing through the doors of her workshop. At worst, the clothes wouldn’t fit right, or his master might object if they dressed too alike.

Or he might object to Dualscar being dressed at _all_ , and all this work would go to waste. A chill ran down his back, and he struggled for happier thoughts. “Are you going to be making clothes for Ψ too?” If she’d seen him in those rags, she’d doubtless felt the same impulse that he’d unwittingly provoked, that made her fingers itch for her measuring tape.  
“It depends,” she told him, writing down a last few notes. “Are his clothes in a similar state?” 

Dualscar floundered. “Well, no,” he began. “His flight suit’s made to last. And it _has_ lasted. It’s just, he’s really attached to it, and it’s starting to come apart, it’s worn out –” He trailed off. How to explain? “There’s not a lot of stuff Ψ will be able _wear_. Without freaking out, I mean. He can’t tolerate belts of any kind, nothing with straps, even short ones. Even tying the sleeves of a sweater around his neck would set him off. It makes him feel trapped, see?”  
She had flipped to another page of her notepad and was scribbling at a furious pace. “Do go on,” she prompted. “What would you suggest instead?”

“More elastic? I don’t really know. I’m no expert.” He blew out a breath. “He’s got no hips to speak of, so if there’s nothing to hold his pants up it’ll probably have to be a single piece for top and bottom. His current suit’s a stretch knit, or something like it. I don’t know if they ever took it off to bathe him, or if they just hosed him down, or what. It _does_ come off, though, reluctant as he is to part with it.”  
He glanced over; she was sketching out some designs. At length she finished her thought and looked up at him. “I could try basing my designs, or at least the aesthetics, on what he’s wearing now. If you think he’d like that?”  
Dualscar nodded approval. “Yes, I think so. Oh, but –” He held up a hand. “Don’t give him any clothes that don’t match. If he winds up with even two pieces out of a hundred that clash, he will somehow, unwittingly, _unerringly,_ end up with both of them on at once. Best stick with just one or two colors,” he finished.

She was giving him a look that said _really_. “Really,” she elaborated, deadpan.  
“Oh yes. Even if they’re both shirts. Even if they’re both _pants_ , and don’t ask me how that would work, one leg of each? I don’t know. He has a penchant for getting things exactly _wrong_ , and not noticing.”  
Dualscar looked around, and was startled to see his master standing in the door, watching them. How long had he been there? How long had Dualscar been _ignoring_ him? Guiltily, he struggled to his feet, gratefully accepting Kanaya’s offered hand in assistance. He bid her a quick farewell; his master was practically tapping his foot by the time he reached him.  
“Ready ta go?” he asked rhetorically. At least Dualscar didn’t need to be told _come on, followw me_ this time; he’d learned that much already.

Dualscar followed his master back downstairs to the door they’d come in – it seemed hours ago, but it was still dark. He could see the edge of what must be the shuttle outside, through the open door. Holding the door open was a girl with curling horns and the warmth of red about her. “All right?” she said. “It’s just you, this run; Gamzee’s staying over and Sollux said he’d take care of the rest.” 

“Yeah, well, good luck to him with that,” was the muttered reply. Dualscar’s face burned as his master gave an abridged report of what had happened to him; evidently Sollux was the other psionic, and now had his hands fuller than he’d anticipated.  
“You leave him be!” The girl gave his master a playful pat on the head, almost a swat. “He’ll be fine. I trust him. You should too.”  
“I _do!_ ” his master protested. “It’s just, this is, it’s not, I mean –”  
“Not how you thought it would be?” the girl finished for him.  
He made an aggrieved noise. “Not at _all_ ,” he admitted. “I didn’t think he’d be, it’d be –”  
“Didn’t think he’d be this bad?” she filled in sweetly, and when he nodded sheepishly, she chopped her hand down between his horns. He whined, cringing away and rubbing the hurt spot.

“Don’t just think before you speak,” she chided, shaking a finger at him. “Think before you _open your mouth!_ It’s your own _ancestor_ you’re insulting here! Anyhow, he might be bad now, but you know what? I may not be able to see the future, but I have a pretty good feeling that everything’s going to turn out OK!” She turned to Dualscar and _winked_ , unmistakably; he pulled back, startled, snapping his fins shut, and she laughed, kind and genuine.

She positioned both of them at her back – there was some last-minute confirmation of directions, based on landmarks he’d never heard of – and then they lifted off. Lifted being the operative word; as they ascended, the air grew even thinner, and Dualscar grew even more lightheaded. Woozily, he flailed, and bumped into his master.  
“Oh fuck. Wwhat’s wwrong noww?”  
“Not enough air,” he managed.  
This provoked a shout of, “Hey Ara! Can you fly us lowwer?”  
“I’m GOING to!” she called back at once. “But I need to clear this _mountain range_ first!" She sounded exasperated, as well as Dualscar could tell with his head spinning. They picked up speed on the downslope, and he twisted to watch the mountains recede. It had been, all in all, a memorable visit.


	3. Settling In

Head clear, now, he chose to watch the scenery zip by below them, the scrubby foothills turning into forests and fields. They shot over an occasional river or stream, quick bright flashes of reflected moonlight. His master seemed restless, shifting his limbs often, but he didn’t attempt to start a conversation. The wind would eat their words, anyway, thought Dualscar, mesmerized by the passing panorama. Some sand dunes were just coming into view.

His master’s fidgeting began to take on a definite purpose: he was slapping his face gently, rubbing his eyes and grimacing - _fighting to stay awake_ , Dualscar realized. _How long has he been up?_ Abruptly he spoke. “Hey Ara? Let me knoww if you’re getting tired or anythin’, okay? Like, if your powers are startin’ to wear out.”  
There was a pause. Then, “Why?”  
“I dunno!” His master sounded annoyed. “I mean, I guess you could alwways just let us dowwn an’ wwe could swwim for it, if wwe havve to.”  
She turned to answer and her hair blew into her face. “What about me?” he caught, or something like it.  
“I _dunno!_ ” more petulant than ever. “Wwe’ll _carry_ you!” She might have been shaking her head at him, or else just spitting out her hair, as she faced forward again. He sighed, and glanced back at Dualscar. He kicked about for a minute more, then took on a thoughtful look.

“Do you want to keep that long braid?”  
He hadn’t really thought about it. “No,” he said automatically. _I don’t care. You can choose for me._  
“Hey Ara,” his master called. “Wwe’re gonna toss his hair to savve wweight, all right?”  
“What?” the young lady shouted back. The wind was muffling her voice more than ever. “That’s stupid!”  
“It’s just gonna get in the wway, so wwe might as wwell do it noww!” Decisively, his master pulled out a short blade. Trying not to tremble, Dualscar turned as best he could to let him hack away near the back of his neck. Soon the locks came free.  
“Ara, you can just let this drop, okay?” He turned suddenly back to Dualscar as if remembering something. “Is that okay wwith you?” he asked more quietly.  
They were over water; it would be something like sea burial, he guessed. “It’s fine.” The braid fell away. His head, when he moved it, felt strangely light.  
Soon, a wrecked ship hove into view on the horizon. His master let out a relieved sigh. “Home at last.”

Their pilot touched down first, perhaps to check the footing, before she lowered them to the deck. His master caught at her hand as she turned to go. “Wwait, Ara! Don’t you wwant to spend the day?”  
She shook her head. “I should be getting back. You’ll have to do without me eventually, and putting it off will not help.”  
“That’s not wwhat I meant!” He scowled at her – not angry, just concerned? Hard to tell in the pre-dawn half-light. “I just –” he dropped her hand, now looking lost. “I don’t wwant you ta wwear yourself out, and fall in the ocean and drowwn, or anythin’ like that.”  
She rolled her eyes. “You worry way too much. About all the wrong things, too!” Both of them sighed together, and she started to float away. As her feet left the deck, she darted forward and gave his master a quick peck on the cheek. “Good day, Eridan!” He raised a hand to his face, smiling faintly. Rising further, she gave Dualscar a firm pat between the shoulder blades – “Good luck!” – and shot off, in a crackling halo of white light. 

His master stretched, yawning hugely, and with a final muttered, “c’mon,” headed for the stairs. Dualscar followed him down belowdecks to what was evidently a sleeping chamber. His master paused at the door. “Right. Okay. I need ta get some sleep, but you slept on the wway so you’re probably not so tired yet. Um. You can havve the run of the galley – it’s dowwn a levvel – and there’s bathrooms all over, and, uh, wwhat else. If you wwant a nap I guess just find a couch somewwhere for noww. Fuck, my recuperacoon wwon’t evven _fit_ you, I’ll havve ta buy another. Tomorroww,” he decided, swaying with obvious fatigue and rubbing his temples.

Dehydrated from flying, probably. “You should drink some water,” Dualscar mumbled, shying away a bit. It wasn’t like him to offer unsolicited advice.  
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that.” He crossed the hall to a bathroom, filled a cup of water, and returned to his door with it, while Dualscar watched. “So, I’m just goin’ to sleep, then. I guess if...somethin’s really wwrong you can wwake me. Like if your eggs come early or somethin’.”  
Dualscar murmured soothing assurances that this was not the case; the ship, wrecked as it was, was so obviously still lived in that it would surely stand for another night and day, and his health was not a pressing issue. The door shut softly in his face.

What now? He was evidently to be left to his own devices whenever his master couldn’t spare attention for him. The galley, then; he proceeded down the stairs at the end of the hall. Stopping first in a bathroom on the lower level, he made his way to what proved to be a good-sized combination food storage, preparation and eating area. He approved, silently; the lighting was good, and the layout was appealing and efficient, although he’d want to move some of the furniture and almost certainly reorganize the cupboards to make it “perfect.” He began poking around as quietly as possible. The place was surprisingly well appointed, although all but a few of the pans looked barely used; a few had seemingly been used only once, to bad effect. Those he set out to soak to let the burnt bits soften; he’d scrub them later.

Investigating the food storage proved to be a bit more problematic; he ran into some unpleasant surprises. Shortly after starting, he was forced to cast around wildly for a trash receptacle. Not finding one, he grimly set out for the depths of the lower holds, where the better part of an hour’s searching turned up several useful items, which he marked mentally before returning them, and finally a lidded bucket, which he hauled back up with him to the galley. It wouldn’t be a proper chum bucket, he mused, since the rotted leftovers he was throwing in it didn’t seem to be meat-based. It would do for compost, though; he could take the stuff down to the beach somewhere and bury it shallowly, maybe start a garden.

He surveyed the remaining edibles. Some fresh vegetables and fruit, in fair shape (he ate an apple); a greater variety of the same, in cans (he organized them by type); various opened bags of snack foods, including a half a can of mixed nuts (he had a judicious handful of those, resisting the urge to pick through them.) Flour, sugar, salt, seasoned breadcrumbs, all properly sealed away; oil, vinegar, an incredible variety of sauces, a small bottle of cooking wine. (He decided against sampling that.)  
He found dried noodles, a sack of rice, a canister of what proved to be oats, and another that puzzled him until he sniffed it. He smiled. _Tea!_ Looseleaf; he’d need something to strain it. He put on the rather banged-up kettle to heat while he searched, eventually turning up a tea ball in one of the utensil drawers. He sorted those while it steeped; quite a collection of jammed-together wooden spoons, serving tongs, oversized forks, kitchen shears, and ladles, along with what looked like every single-use gadget that had ever been dreamed up. He uncovered what he recognized as a strawberry huller at the back of one drawer, and thought, _really?_

Well, at least now he knew where everything _was_. He put it all back, nesting similar items so they wouldn’t jam, while he drank his tea. _A bit strong._ Even if there _had_ been milk, it probably would’ve turned, judging by the state of the leftovers he’d found.  
That brought him to the prospect of _fresh_ food. Aside from some dusty packages of jerky and whatever might be lurking inside the ice-encased lumps in the hold’s freezer, there didn’t seem to be any protein in the place. _That_ , he thought, cleaning and replacing his mug, was easily enough solved. But first, a nap; it had to be after noon. Judging by his master’s apparent age, and how tired he’d been, he probably wouldn’t wake until well after sundown; Dualscar would have plenty of time to get a meal ready provided he woke early. 

He stopped again in the bathroom for a proper wash, then sought out a comfy couch. The first one he came across, elegantly striped, in a large, well-appointed room evidently meant for entertaining, was much too firm, but he did steal the pillows off it. The next one he found, a large couch in a room too small for it, had seen better days, but its softness suited him perfectly. He tucked his stolen pillows around himself and settled the throw blanket over his shoulders with a satisfied sigh.

He woke early, as he’d planned. The sun was barely down when he rose, stretched, returned the pillows, and went off to freshen up. Then it was back to the galley for a quick breakfast of jerky and fruit. He downed a large glass of water, savoring it: so _fresh!_ Water without even a faint taste of unnatural chemicals, that he could almost believe hadn’t been down a thousand throats before his, seemed a delicious treat.  
Rootling about in the snack cupboards a bit produced a bag of dried kelp strips, opened and nearly full, but dusty; not a favorite, then. Just what he needed. A handful of those, and he was off to the hold again, lugging the garbage, to retrieve the fishing poles and tackle he’d spotted the day before. He’d try using the least slimy of the leftovers as bait. Failing that, there was a can of corn in the cupboard.

An hour later, he’d had success in the form of two good-sized fish that he couldn’t remember the names of. Enough to know they weren’t poisonous, for now. He replaced the gear and retreated to the galley to begin the next phase of getting off on the right foot.  
There were dozens of cookbooks, representing a multitude of tastes and styles, piled up and stuffed haphazardly together into a small bookcase. He pulled out a few of the more beat-up looking all-purpose titles, and flipped through the “Fish” section of each. _Aha._ Here was a page with a multitude of marks, spills, and stains of indeterminate origin on it. He read both sides. It began with a treatise on the selection and handling of fish, followed by several simple recipes. He frowned. As far as he could tell, the galley didn’t _have_ a grill or a broiler. That left the Fried Fillet with Breadcrumbs. Easy enough.

Or so he’d thought; all the knives he found were dull. He frowned again. There _was_ a sharpening stone tucked away behind some appliance on the counter, so he paused to put enough of an edge on the knife he needed that he wouldn’t make a hash of both the fish and his hand. When he went to begin cutting, he paused again, sighed, set the knife down and headed back to the hold to retrieve another lidded bucket; this one seemed to actually have said “CHUM” on it at some point, though the letters were mostly rubbed off. He reconsidered yet again upon his return to the galley, and instead climbed the stairs, listening hard. No sign of movement from his master’s room; no sense cooking something that would only take a few minutes, then. He went and chopped some ice out of the freezer, and covered the fish with it. Might be better to leave them alive next time, at this rate.

Next goal: getting his teeth brushed. Nobody wanted to be served by someone with bad breath. Trouble was, while the bathroom he’d been using was well stocked with fancy shaped soaps, heavily perfumed body and hair lotions, and towels more ornamental than absorbent, it didn’t have any storage areas. This led to the uneasy conclusion that the main bathroom was the one right across from his master’s room, and he didn’t want to either wake him or be in the way of his ablutions once he woke. It required the utmost of care to creep up the stairs and down the hall, hoping there weren’t any squeaky boards on the way.  
Once in, he checked everywhere he could as quickly and quietly as possible. Linen closet: no good, just towels. He slipped a big fluffy one from the middle of the stack for his own use. Medicine cabinet: a tube of tooth polish. One step closer, at least. Sink cupboard: success! A six-pack of brushes in shades of green and blue; only the top one was missing. It had probably been purple. He took a green one, and, not finding any alternative, added polish from the already opened tube. If his master objected to sharing, he could always buy a new tube for himself. Dualscar beat a cautious retreat down the stairs, clutching his prizes.

While he was busy in the lower bathroom, he heard a door open and close, and then water running above him. His heart skipped a beat. Had he woken his master after all? He relaxed a bit at the sound of a shower starting; he’d still have some time. Hastening to the kitchen, he filleted both fish, prepared the breadcrumbs and pan, and – the shower was still running. He put them back on ice, discarding the carcasses. He scrubbed the pans he’d been soaking, and set the table – still running. Lacking a better project, he began grimly sharpening the knives, though he felt like he was whetting his appetite along with the blades.  
He was beginning to wonder if he ought to get fresh ice when the shower finally stopped. If his master wanted to spend another two hours on his hair, that was his affair, but Dualscar needed to eat _now_. (Well, _soon_ , anyway.) He started cooking. 

Sure enough, a small figure appeared in the doorway a short time later, as if drawn by the smell. His master poked his head into the galley as if he wasn’t sure what he’d find. “Good evenin’!” he called as he strolled in, looking hurriedly put together but fresh, much better for his long sleep. He glanced out the porthole. “Or, night, I guess, by noww. Did you havve any trouble yesterday?”  
“Good evening. No.” Not trouble, exactly. Dualscar slipped the hotter pair of fillets onto his master’s plate, and sat down across from him, leaving his own cooling on the counter; he’d eat after his master finished.

“Fillet with Breadcrumbs, am I right?” said his master, digging in cheerfully. “I knoww it wwell; it’s ‘bout the only thing I can cook for myself.”  
Dualscar flattened his fins warily; was his master displeased, despite the smile and easygoing manner? “I can make fancier things!” he asserted. “I just thought- you might want something familiar.”  
He got a chuckle in reply. “Feel free ta make somthin’ fancier for dinner, then, if you wwant.” He met Dualscar’s eyes. “I mean, if you feel up to it.”  
That…felt like a challenge, somehow. Dualscar cleared his throat. “Master? May I ask a question?”  
“Yes, of course! But call me Eridan. Please.”  
“Then...Eridan? What the heck is in your refrigerator?”  
His master’s eyes widened, then he smacked himself in the face and sighed. “Sorry, I forgot. I’ll get that cleaned out so wwe can use it,” he said grimly.  
“Er, I can – “  
“No, I’ll do it.”

This was said more forcefully. Dualscar subsided. Something private, must be. No sense prying when he was getting what he wanted, anyway; he’d let his master do it on his own terms, rather than not at all. He tried a change of tack. “Have you been cooking for yourself very long?”  
“Couple sweeps,” Eridan confirmed, looking satisfied.  
Dualscar mused for a moment. “No lusus?”  
The reply came so quick and quiet he almost missed it. “He’s dead.”  
Not entirely unexpected. “My apologies,” Dualscar offered.  
His master snorted. “Wwhy? _You_ didn’t kill ‘im.”  
_For upsetting you, of course -_ “My condolences, then,” he revised. He attempted to find a safer topic. “Who was that girl last night?”

“Oh, the one wwho dropped us off? That wwas Ara – Aradia, Aradia Megido. She’s my auspistice from wwhen Sol and I – Sollux Captor, you met him, he’s the other psionic – wwhen wwe wwere fightin’ fit ta kill each other. See, they’re old friends, and, long story short, she wwasn’t ‘OK wwith that’” – he made a finger-quote motion – “and she got betwween us until wwe figured out that killin’ wwas borin’ and kissin’ wwas awwesome, kind of thing.” He seemed to run out of words and stuffed another forkful of fish in his mouth. “She wwas really persuasivve,” he mumbled around the bite, and then swallowed, blushing slightly. “She’s got a wwhip.”  
Dualscar raised his eyebrows. “Really!” he exclaimed. “I wouldn’t have guessed.” 

His master – Eridan – had returned his attention to his plate ( _shy?_ ); evidently that was all he was going to learn about Miss Megido, for now. He decided to broach the next topic delicately, hoping the good mood would last. “Now, aside from cooking meals, and maybe some cleaning, is there anything specific you want me do tonight?” _What are your plans for me?_

The reply rather surprised him. “Can you wwrite me out a list of all the things you knoww howw to do? Or, like, stuff you knoww something about? Er. You can leavve off sex things.” His master was starting to blush again, clearly more prudish than he’d first seemed. “I mean, like, brewwing, or sailing, I guess. I just need to knoww wwhat you knoww. An’ you don’t havve to wwrite me a book or anything, just the topic, and then I’ll ask if I need to knoww more about it.”

“I haven’t done a lot of anything much lately, but I’ll do my best,” promised Dualscar. He marveled; this master was more logical than he’d expected! “And if you leave it somewhere I can get at, I’ll add to it as I remember and learn more things.”  
Eridan cleared his throat awkwardly. “For the rest of the time you can just do wwhatevver you wwant, I guess. Just try not to break anything, an’ definitely don’t hurt yourself. Come find me anytime you need, I mostly stay up top or in my room. Good?”  
He was grinning, and Dualscar gave him an answering smile and nod. His time was his own then, for the most part. “Is any part of the ship or island off-limits?”  
He got a bewildered look back. “Um? No, I don’t think so. Uh. Hm. Wwell, if I need you ta stay outta someplace, I’ll let you knoww, howw about that?” Dualscar nodded, making a pleased, understanding sound. Good. He’d need that freedom later; now he just had to make sure he didn’t lose it.

He tackled the list while the breakfast dishes were drying, starting with small, useful things like _cooking_ and _cleaning_. A bit unsure, he added _swimming_ and _hunting_ as well; were those, like sex, too obvious to include? _Sailing_ , of course, and all that went with it; _tie knots_ and _fish_ and _mend_ sails and nets, _read a map_ and _chart a course, navigation_. A bit of _swordfighting_ , though he was horribly out of practice. _Budgeting_ , both food and money. Oh, and _appraisal_ , of course. He decided to include _sing_ and _dance_ as well; those weren’t _technically_ sex things. Perhaps his master simply wanted a teacher. And there were other forms of entertainment, of course; he wrote in _tell stories_ with a flourish and a smile. He bit his lip before adding _redirect lightning_ and _affect mood_ at the bottom of the Things I Can Do column; he hadn’t even begun on Things I Know About, but decided he could use a break.

There was a small radio on a ledge by a large porthole, but he’d found only two stations that came in clearly enough for listening. The first played cheesy pop ballads, all the latest catchy dreck marketed as “top hits,” and the other, which might have been _literal_ pirate radio, played nothing but bands so obscure they’d probably broken up before their singles ever made it to the airwaves. On the whole, Dualscar preferred the first, which was almost guaranteed to sound cheery, even on a breakup song, but when he felt stuffed to the horns on sickening romantic crap, he decided, he’d hunt down the other station and listen to a band that’d had more name changes than songs wail about destiny writ deeper than bone, or somesuch. When he’d had all he could stand of _that_ , he’d turn the thing off and just revel in the soothing sound of waves slapping the hull. The song of the water was more comforting than he’d remembered.  
Idly, he flipped through the cookbooks while he listened, looking for something that was fancy enough to please, but simple enough to make with what he had on hand. Eventually he settled on a simple orange glazed fish – there was only one orange in the fruit bowl, but it should be enough. He decided to do a bit more exploration disguised as cleaning, first, rather than trying to keep what he’d caught fresh for hours again.

The holds were a collective disaster of poorly stored miscellany; Dualscar pulled aside everything he thought he could use toward obtaining or preparing food, and mentally shrugged away the rest for now. A search along the hallway near the galley yielded the sitting rooms and bath he’d already found, two small libraries, one of which was clearly just for show, and what looked like a room for off-season clothes storage. Even diligently dusting everywhere failed to turn up much of interest in these rooms. He encountered his master only once the whole time, when he turned up looking (frazzled) for a particular volume from the better-used book storage, and quickly took off again, galloping back upstairs.

Unfortunately, Dualscar had less luck with the fishing the second time around, even with proper bait. There was only a single fish for dinner, but he thought, with luck, he could stretch it to two portions. He labored over the orange-based sauce, using what spices remained from a set apparently long-devoid of anything obviously seafood-appropriate: ginger, cinnamon, anything that seemed to smell right. Once again, his master came without being called, evidently drawn by the savory aroma.  
“You’re right on time,” Dualscar said approvingly, plating the second fillet and dressing it with the sauce. His master eyed it dubiously as it was set in front of him, poking it with a fork. “What is it?” he asked, bluntly.  
“I wonder,” sighed Dualscar, sliding into the seat across from him. “It was going to be Fillet with Orange Glaze, but it seems to have turned into something more like Fillet with Orange Spice Sauce.”  
His master sniffed the forkful, fins folded warily, and took an apprehensive bite. Dualscar watched in satisfaction as the edges of his mouth curved up around the fork and his fins went _ping!_ He took another quick, greedy bite and shivered with what might’ve been glee, or ecstasy; in any case, it didn’t seem to be revulsion. “This is delicious!” he proclaimed with his mouth full. “You’re a genius.”  
Dualscar suppressed a smug grin, as well as a warring urge to argue _what, just because I can read a cookbook, follow directions correctly, and use my nose?_ “Thank you, m - _Eridan._ ” Thankfully, the slip went unnoticed.  
His master finished his portion in record time, and licked his fork. “Is there any more?” he asked boldly.  
“Yes,” Dualscar admitted, with sinking heart. He started to get up. Eridan flapped his fins uncertainly. “But wwait, that plate’s yours, isn’t it?”  
“You can have it –” Dualscar began.  
His master gave him a firm look. “No. You eat it.”  
“But –”  
“Sit an’ eat.” He gestured imperiously to the vacated chair; Dualscar was forced to comply, feeling very self-conscious. It _was_ nice to eat his food while it was still warm, he reflected. It was also a strange sort of mirroring; he’d watched his master eat, and now his master watched _him_.

Dualscar sighed happily as he finished eating. Eridan had a rather calculating gleam in his eye; maybe he’d at least wait until the food had settled before he tried anything. Evidently he had other things in mind, though; “D’y’like it here so far?” he asked, all in a rush. His fingers drummed the tabletop, attempting nonchalance and failing.  
“It’s peaceful,” Dualscar admitted. “Thank you for – leaving me to my work.” Absent-mindedly, he began piling the silverware on top of the plates. “And I’m sorry we hadn’t any side dishes,” he confessed. “It’s just –”  
His master interrupted. “I knoww. The cupboards’re shamefully bare, aren’t they?” and now he looked embarrassed for some reason. “I havven’t restocked in ages, I think. Been busy,” he explained. “Make me a list of evverything you wwanna get, an’ I’ll order it, okay?” He grinned. “Can’t wwait to see wwhat you can do wwhen this place is properly stocked.”  
_List!_ That reminded Dualscar of the one he’d begun earlier; he pulled it off the countertop and handed it over. He gleefully began a second list as his master looked over the half-finished one from breakfast. His efforts had paid off, in freedom and trusted responsibility! Now, he needed ( _wanted_ )...there were so many _things!_ Fresh spices, more starches, fresh fruit and vegetables, maybe some eggs, _yeast_...


	4. Revelations, Part 1

While Dualscar wrote, Eridan perused his list of self-proclaimed skills. After a moment he set the paper down and tapped it. “Wwhat’s this ‘redirect lightning’ about?” he asked.  
Curious. “When I first met you, you were carrying a gun. Ahab’s Crosshairs, wasn’t it?”  
Eridan nodded. “It used to be yours, right?”  
_Mine._ “Yes, indeed. And you can use it, yes?”  
More nodding.  
“I mean, you can... _not_ hurt yourself, and _aim_ it, and hit what you aim at?”  
Eridan had raised an eyebrow and was looking perplexed. “Isn’t that wwhat using it means? Wwhere are you going wwith this?”

“It’s the same thing!” Dualscar exclaimed. “Only larger.” He made a vague hand gesture. “I mean, you have to be able to at least _sense_ the electric potential of the air in order to fire it properly at all, and then you have to be able to _adjust_ it in order to make it fire where you want it to.” He paused thoughtfully. “Did it take you a while to get the hang of it?”  
Eridan grimaced. “Twwo or three perigees, at least, before I could manage not to embarrass myself.”  
“Hah! I think it took me four.” Even on the lowest power setting, he’d burned himself badly enough to contemplate throwing the thing in the sea.  
“Wwhy did you havve to _learn_ to use the Crosshairs?” Eridan questioned. “I thought it wwas _made_ for you.”

“... My name was never ‘Ahab,’ Dualscar informed him. “It was a legendary weapon in my time.” Eridan seemed taken aback; evidently that possibility hadn’t occurred to him. He cleared his throat: back on track. “Well, at any rate, now you’ve learned to handle electricity; that’ll serve you later in life if you get close to any sparky seadwellers that want to hurt you. Directing a charge is an automatic defense. No matter how powerful, it won’t hit you if you want it _not_ to.” Maybe he ought to elaborate further, after all, if his master hadn’t dealt with the concept before. “You’ll be able to spark, but only lightly, when you’re fully grown. It’ll come on just after your adult molt. When someone gets too close, and startles you, they’ll get zapped by your fins. ‘Course, since it’s coming from your fins, it’ll sting _you_ near as bad as _them_ , only _you’ll_ have warning.” _Just tell him already; get it over with._ “I _can_ spark,” Dualscar admitted, “– I can produce enough of a charge to fry a good-sized computer – but I don’t, anymore.” He spoke as reassuringly as he could manage. “I learned not to; the self-defensive impulse that sets it off is gone.” Thoughts of his _other_ defenses weren’t relevant here; he shoved them aside. “It’s difficult, though possible, to shock something on _purpose_ , but of course I won’t.”  
His master looked dubious, though whether it was over the prospect of accidentally (inevitably) injuring himself or Dualscar’s purported control was impossible to tell. They sat in silence for a long moment. Dualscar wondered whether it would be rude to get up before his master did.

“You’re…not wwhat I expected, from the stories of you,” Eridan admitted softly, not meeting his eyes. “I used to be so inta that stuff…I read all I could find ‘bout ‘Dualscar’ wwhen I wwas younger.”  
Dualscar cringed a bit; the meaning was accusatory, if not the tone. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “But I’m not him, not anymore. Sometimes I doubt if I ever was. If it helps at all, I don’t know that the Dualscar from your stories was every really real.” He worried; his master looked upset. “But I’ll try,” he promised. “I’ll try my very best to _be_ him, if that’s what you want me to be.”  
“Wwhat do _you_ wwant to be?”  
He couldn’t parse the question, at first. “Safe,” he concluded at last. “Content. Fulfilled.”  
Eridan didn’t have an answer to that. 

 

Annoyingly, Eridan hied himself back upstairs as soon as Dualscar started the cleanup. He’d wanted the company, if not the help. The loneliness of the near-empty ship was threatening to close in and choke him. Dualscar fretted all through the washing up. He’d been so _long_ alone. _But it would have been longer still, if he’d left you there. You can wait; you don’t have to force the issue now._ But he couldn’t _restrain_ himself any longer; it was too much to ask for him to have someone nearby, someone he _could_ just go and talk to, be with, and not _go_ to them! Oh, he might hold out for a few more nights, but not forever. Might as well cave now and see how bad it would be.  
_He’ll be annoyed. He’ll get mad and hit me. Or maybe he’ll ignore me because I’m too needy._ He grimaced; being ignored was the worst. _I could get his attention…no, I don’t want to do that. But…_

_I don’t want to be alone anymore,_ he decided finally, after stalling in the bathroom for a while. _I’ll do whatever it takes to stay near him, to make him interact with me even a little._ Mind made up, he climbed the stairs and proceeded down the hall toward the blessedly open door, although he couldn’t help creeping quietly along as he got closer. The door was only open a crack; he couldn’t see much through it. Should he knock? He knocked, and then swung the door half open before he lost his nerve. His master looked up from his desk, where he’d been on his computer.

“Wwhat’s wwrong?” and Dualscar almost reconsidered, but he’d come so far toward his goal! He wouldn’t back out now, and so he strode into the room, stopping a half-pace away from the desk, looking as determined as he could. His master regarded him with an air of concern.  
“Wwhat do you wwant?” he asked, sounding wary. His fins had drawn in protectively.  
“Just some company for a while,” Dualscar acknowledged. “I thought we could sit and talk for a bit, maybe.” He studiously ignored the computer, and tried not to shy out of swatting range.  
His master had returned his attention to the screen and was typing away; evidently Dualscar had interrupted him in the middle of something. “Talk about wwhat?” he asked, distractedly.  
“I don’t know. Anything. Whatever you want.”  
After thinking it over, Eridan perked up. “You can look ovver the supplies order before I send it in!” Taking this as permission to remain, Dualscar carefully lowered himself to sit on the floor beside the desk chair. This sent Eridan into a tizzy of “no, don’t sit there – oh, there’s no other chairs – wwait, I’ll get –” he retrieved a large cushion, which Dualscar accepted with grace, and shifted underneath him – “should I get more pillowws? – no, that’s too much like a pile – AUGH JUST FORGET I SAID ANYTHIN’.” He sat back down and began pecking at the keys again; his fins were starting to flush. Dualscar watched the screen with interest; this only seemed to fluster Eridan further, so after a moment he turned aside, sitting with his back against the side of the chair. Long moments later, a hand patted his hair. He glanced up over one shoulder. “I’vve brought up the shopping site,” Eridan said. Both of them turned their attention to the screen.

It was quite a list. Most of it was composed of the food needed to restock the galley. There were also a few items, like a recuperacoon and extra sopor for him, which he hadn’t remembered. “Anythin’ else?”  
“Oh!”  
Tooth polish was added to the list with a chuckle.  
“Mmm…maybe double the onions and garlic. Oh, and I forgot gingerroot.” A few more adjustments, additions, and tweaks, and Dualscar pronounced himself satisfied; his master sent off the order with a few final clicks. “I’vve ordered the express shipping,” he declared, “but it’ll still take twwo nights to get here.” Dualscar sank back down beside him, drawing his legs up onto the cushion. He tried not to look at the screen; being watched might make his master angry. Eridan patted his head in a friendly manner. “You still wwanna stay here?” he asked awkwardly. “An’ just, uh, hang out, or maybe talk, I guess?” Dualscar nodded gratefully, and was rewarded with more patting. His thoughts wandered. _I suppose I should tackle the freezer tomorrow. Get it defrosted, see what’s still useful._

There was, for a few moments, silence, aside from the clicking of keys. Then abruptly, “Tell me about carryin’ grubs,” his master demanded. Dualscar looked up at him warily. “All of it?” he asked.  
Eridan appeared to reconsider. “Um. Wwell, howw about all of it from here?”  
“From right now?” He got a nodded confirmation. “Well, like I mentioned before, I won’t be laying for another perigee or two; probably closer to two. If all goes well, the eggs’ll hatch about two perigees later.”  
“Tell me about that – about the layin’,” his master interrupted. “Tell me more, I mean.”

He complied. “Well, it’s typically right after a sleep cycle; the urge to lay wakes me, so I imagine it’ll be early in the evening. I dig holes in sand about yea deep,” he held his hands apart to demonstrate, “two, three times the diameter of the eggs. They used to give me sand tubs, but I figured I could just use the beach outside. When they’re all laid I cover them back over and go clean myself up. The whole thing takes a few hours, maybe until lunchtime, but I’ll need some time afterwards to recover – I’ve always been ‘off limits’ for at least a perigee after laying.” _Six weeks,_ he thought. _But I won’t fuss about the details now._ “What I really need you to remember, though, is that I’ll be pretty much feral for the whole thing. So, if I just growl at you one evening, please _stay out of my way!_ Because protocol be _damned_ , those eggs need to be _laid_ , and if you’re obstructing me I will _mow you down_.” He threw a beseeching look up over his shoulder. This one thing, he must make clear; there was no changing it. “I’m like a rogue lusus in that state. I won’t be able to talk. I won’t even _recognize_ you. So if there’s something you need to ask me, or tell me, best do it now. I do _remember_ things, if I can be convinced of them beforehand. Like, where the best laying sites are, or places to avoid. Does that help?” he concluded, clasping his hands.

Eridan was nodding. “Wwe’vve got some time ta wwork it out then,” he reasoned, “though these things do havve a wway of sneakin’ up on you. I knoww Eq wwanted ta bury some kinda monitorin’ gadgets wwith your eggs – not like right wwith them, but nearby at the same depth – so wwe could get some readings of moisture an’ temperature an’ such, in case wwe _do_ havve ta do it artificially sometime. Wwould you be okay wwith that?”

Dualscar blew out a breath. “Probably best to bury them at the same time,” he admitted. “I am liable to _flip my shit_ if you go digging anywhere _near_ my eggs once they’re covered. And whatever it is can’t look too unnatural. I will smash to _bits_ anything plastic, even glazed ceramics, obviously _made_ things. They’re just somehow ‘suspicious’ and I don’t trust them near my eggs. Even when I come back to myself the thought of them there would make me nervous; I’d forever be wanting to dig them back up and dispose of them.”

“So that leaves...” his master prompted.  
“Stone, wood, and plain metal, for the most part,” Dualscar filled in. “Plant fibers, too, but they don’t fare too well buried in wet sand.”  
His master considered. “What about somethin’ with stones glued on ta disguise it?” he suggested.  
Dualscar recoiled. “No! Things that cover themselves with bits of rock are just scavengers cruising for an easy meal!” Another thought occurred to him; his fins drooped a bit in embarrassment. “Uhhhhmm. Also, they shouldn’t be _too_ pretty, or shiny gold. Otherwise I might try to hoard them, and hide them somewhere else entirely.”  
“But silver or grey metallic is fine?” asked his master - _Eridan_ , smiling like he was holding back a laugh.  
Dualscar nodded. “The tarnish on copper kind of puts me off, though.”  
“I’ll tell Eq,” came the answer, as they gradually turned back away from each other, facing their respective directions once again, “see what he thinks. He’ll come up with somethin’.”

Silence fell once more. Dualscar had fallen into a light doze by the time Eridan spoke again. “What’s it like, bein’ in heat?” he asked, sounding tentative.  
“Well...” Dualscar began. _He hasn’t been through one?_ What symptoms could he recognize it by? “For starters, it’s not just feeling horny all the time for weeks on end. It starts out with a sense of something wrong; you might feel feverish or sick, and it makes you want to seek out someone to help you or protect you. You want to find someone you trust and get close to them. If you’re planning to breed with someone specific, you can kind of set them in your mind ahead of time as this protector-figure, and then when your thoughts start to get hazy you’ll go to them automatically.”

Eridan had moved the hand from his hair to his shoulder and was leaning down on it. “So it’s not wantin’ sex, just bein’ close?”  
“Well, once you get close to someone, you start feeling better,” Dualscar explained. “Comforted, like. And once you stop feeling like something’s wrong, _then_ you start feeling sexy. You want to get _even closer_ , in other words.”  
“Sounds like you’re not really thinkin’ about it when it happens.” Fingers drummed his shoulder. A nervous habit?

“That’s not entirely true. You’ll still have your mind, it just won’t be able to help you much. You can’t _think_ or _reason_ your way out of heat! It’s not as bad as the other parts of brooding, though,” Dualscar admitted. “Heat’s only a low level of instinct. With laying and hatching, you hardly know _what_ you’re doing, let alone who you are.”  
Eridan pulled his arms to his chest and sank his head into them miserably. “I don’t _wanna_ be feral,” he confessed. 

“It’s not so bad,” Dualscar confided. “Your mind doesn’t go all at once; it sorta fades away as you get closer to what needs doing. Like running a fever: you know you can’t think straight, but you can’t think well enough to figure out why! And you won’t feel embarrassed, because you’ll lack the capacity for it. It’s just your body’s way of getting done what it needs to. Higher brain functions might get in the way. Although I do recall a time,” he hesitated; was this story worth sharing? “When I needed to lay but had lost my words, and whoever was nearest me didn’t know or understand that I needed sand, and, after a day or so of hurting, I laid in a blanket pile instead. Thinking back,” he continued contemplatively, “it might have been that they were trying to test me, to see how long I could go without laying or what I would do if I couldn’t.”  
The hand at his hair had returned, running through it forcefully, and then his head was being hugged from behind. “That’s _awwful!"_ Eridan cried.  
Dualscar shrugged. “Well, now we know,” he concluded.

He excused himself when he couldn’t stop yawning an hour or two later, and left feeling well satisfied, full up on head pats and quiet, agreeable company, peaceful in a way he couldn’t remember feeling before, or at least, not in a long time. With vague notions of getting up early again, Dualscar tucked himself in and sank into sleep.


	5. Gathering Storm and Turning Tide

Dualscar slept poorly that day, waking several times at small noises or to use the bathroom. Once, he lay paralyzed on the sofa, trying to feign sleep, as his master came down the stairs; thankfully he passed quietly by the room Dualscar was in, without even stopping to check on him. _Probably headed for the galley._ Dualscar breathed again, and drifted back off.

When he finally woke for good, the ship was quiet again. He frowned as he performed his evening ablutions. It wasn’t as early as he’d wanted to wake, but there was no sign of his master being up and about. Dualscar decided to check, this time; if he was asleep, he’d want breakfast later. If awake and elsewhere, he might have already eaten. Dualscar berated himself for the missed opportunity as he climbed the stairs.

His master’s door stood open, but as he’d feared, no one was within. Cautiously, he cast about further down the hall, poking his head through each door as he passed it. More libraries and sitting rooms, a bedroom for entertaining, a parlor for watching movies. No Eridan. Where was he? Furrowing his brow, Dualscar ascended the steps to the deck. Had his master gone out without telling him? _Not that he could have told me when I was asleep, but he could have woken me._ The fact that he _hadn’t_ meant - _Was it not worth waking me for? That_ was an uncomfortable thought, both ways; either his master didn’t consider him, or considered him too much. 

He cracked open the door, and looked out over the deck. Sure enough, his master was there, at the far rail. Dualscar hung back in the doorway, and watched him. Eridan was standing at the ship’s bow, staring out at the waves, or the sky, or nothing at all, huddled in on himself and hugging his cape around him as if the night were far colder than it was. After a while, he began to cry – not weeping, just crying out – soft noises of frustration and pain, gradually giving way to the full-throated sounds of an upset seadweller. He creaked like wood under dangerous strain, shrieked like a lonely gull blown away from its flock. Well could Dualscar understand that sense of loss and uncertainty, but...

_He’s just a boy_ , thought Dualscar uneasily, _but with feelings as big as an ocean, and he can’t fit them all inside him, so they come sloshing out all over_. He grimaced. _Dangerous. Like me._ But no, Eridan was _more_ dangerous, because he hadn’t learned how to hold himself in. Maybe he _couldn’t_ , or wasn’t mature enough yet.  
_That boy needs a moirail,_ Dualscar decided finally. _But he needs a dedicated, full-time one, not someone like me who paps every face that looks upset just for the sake of harmony._ He rubbed his arms to chase away the chilling thought, and stepped back inside, shutting the door softly and leaving the boy to enjoy his miserable peace in private.

On his way back down the hall, Dualscar stopped into the biggest and obviously best-used of the ship’s libraries, and perused the shelves. Ah, here was what he needed. He retrieved the most recent of the almanacs, did a quick check of the room’s desks for a more current one, and carried it down through the decks and holds, emerging out on the beach. He stepped down onto the sand and glanced about.

The sky was now coated in a layer of puffy grey, although the wind was still relatively calm; no danger he’d get rained on anytime soon. Dualscar opened the almanac to the index, then flipped to the tide tables. The threatening clouds prevented any possible corroboration with the moon tables. Oh, well. He shrugged, made a guess at the date, and compared the level of the incoming waves to the debris line on the shore; high tide in an hour or two, no more. Based on the clock he’d seen in the library…he was way off. Should he go forward or back a few weeks? He frowned at the pages, and eventually decided to just go in and ask, rather than fritter the night away for the sake of proving himself superior to a book. Snapping the almanac shut with a snort, he turned away from the waves, and headed back aboard.

Returning to the galley, Dualscar discovered Eridan had beat him there, and was eating an orange. He was immediately vexed. How had he missed it? He could have used it in the sauce! It must have been buried in the fruit bowl, he supposed, making a mental note not to let such obvious things slip by him in the future. Well, never mind that for now. “Good evening, Eridan,” he replied to the nonchalant wave. “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Eridan told him between bites.

“What is tonight’s date, exactly?”

Eridan blinked blearily at him. This was certainly not the question he’d been expecting. “Uhhh…,” he scratched his head, laughing sheepishly. “Fuck if I knoww. Lost a couple a wweeks, lately, wwith the plannin’ an’ all. I can check. Early fall, sometime, ‘s all I knoww.”

Dualscar stared at him, setting the almanac down slowly. “You’re telling me it’s _fall?_ ”

“Wwell, yeah. Wwhen did you think it wwas?”

“ _Winter!_ ” Dualscar burst out. “I’m supposed to go into _season_ in the fall, and lay in the _spring!_ ” He realized he was wailing, and tried to stop himself. There wasn’t any help for it, unless he moved to another hemisphere. He’d live. His eggs would be…monitored, at least? It wasn’t comforting to think about, but the weather should be _about_ right, only getting colder instead of warmer. Would that matter? It shouldn’t, right, since all his broods had been raised in more or less constant temperatures? It had better not matter.

Dimly, he realized he was whimpering now; he’d sunk into a chair and covered his face with his hands. Eridan looked concerned. “Wwill it be okay? D’you need to…lay inside after all or somethin’?”

“I _don’t know!_ ” Dualscar cried helplessly. _That’s quite enough of that. Stop it at once._ He inhaled deeply, and pulled himself together. _Right. Better. Now._ He pushed the almanac forward in explanation. “I was trying to use the tide tables to figure out the best times to fish, was why I asked.”

Eridan accepted the diversion gladly. “Oh! That’s a couple swweeps old; I havven’t been keeping them up to date. Should I order a neww one?” From the bags under his eyes, it looked like he too hadn’t slept well – or at all?

“No, don’t bother. I can probably make my own faster than it can get here.”  
Eridan nodded, then yawned. “Excuse me. Mmm, oh, I cleaned out the fridge for you. Anythin’ else you needed?”  
“Not right now,” Dualscar admitted. “Oh, wait. A timepiece, for marking the tides. I guess I could run back and forth to the one in the study?”

“Nah. You could use…” Eridan paused. “My husktop? No, hang on, there’s gotta be somethin’ else. Somethin’ smaller, maybe.” He crossed into the food-prep area and cast about. “Aha! Here.” He plucked a digital timer from off the top of the oven. “This can count up or down, so just sync it up to another clock on the hour.”

“That’ll do nicely.” Dualscar smiled, and accepted it gratefully.

“Good. Then I’m goin’ ta sleep.” Eridan stumbled his way unceremoniously out of the galley, running his hands through his hair. “I wwas up all day, mostly talkin’ to folks online, but I did manage to get some stuff done around here. Wwake me if you need anythin’, all right?”

“All _day?_ ” Dualscar protested. Maybe...maybe it was time lag, from visiting another continent? But he’d kept almost-normal hours the night before...

“Mmmf. Yeah.” Eridan paused, rubbing at the side of his face and squinting sleepily. “Evverybody else livves halfwway around the wworld from me. Wwell. Almost evverybody.”

Dualscar followed him as far as the doorway, and watched him wobble down the hall. “Sleep well, then,” he managed uncertainly, choking back a _brush your teeth and wash first._ Eridan seemed independent enough not to need his advice, and there were things you just didn’t _say_ to a master, no matter how young.

Well, a sleeping master rather put the kibosh on his half-formed lunch plans for Something Or Other on a Bed of Rice. He shrugged, and revised them to dinner plans. After a quick breakfast, he returned to the beach, with his newly programmed timer, paper and pencil, and fishing rod in tow. _Might as well start refilling the fridge._

After an hour or two, Dualscar retrieved the almanac from the kitchen, just for something to do between casts. It was full of facts and figures – useful, interesting stuff! He ate it up. It was _good_ to be on a planet again, although (here he double-checked the name on the cover: _Alternian Almanac_ ) theoretically, it was the same one he’d left. How had he lost a quarter of a sweep?

Some small discrepancy in the length of the night-day cycle, he supposed, reeling in his line. It would add up, over time. On that note: wouldn’t the length of the night be constantly changing? That might get annoying.  
The wind had picked up slightly, and the gloomy clouds were piling themselves into ever greater heaps. A storm on the way, for certain, but not due to break anytime soon, unless he missed his guess. With a final calculating look up, Dualscar hauled his catch back to the galley, and made himself lunch.

When the dishes were cleaned, dried, and put away, and the leftovers stored for purposes of future snacking or a suddenly-appearing Eridan, Dualscar began a campaign of menu planning. Using the cookbooks, he re-familiarized himself with the fish he’d caught, and the best preparation methods for each. He began with simple dishes, things he could make with what he had on hand, like the canned vegetables. There might also be baking soda for biscuits. Eventually, he was unable to stop himself from dreaming up elaborate meals that relied heavily on the still-to-be-delivered groceries: fancy soups and breads and sauces, all sorts of sides and sweets and savories. A nine-course dinner party for a mid-sized group of guests was mentally well underway by the time he shook himself out of his reverie, and went to update the tide chart again.

And so went the night; Dualscar made good progress on both the tide chart and the next few night’s meals, with some light dusting and reorganizing of cookbooks thrown in to break up the monotony. Dinner, when Eridan finally woke, was well received. Dualscar basked in the words of praise flung his way, trying not to look smug. It no longer came as a surprise when Eridan absconded shortly afterwards. _He’s either a very private person, or just plain shy,_ thought Dualscar, as he washed up. Luckily, he didn’t seem particularly averse to being followed.

Cleaning done, Dualscar made his way upstairs and knocked at Eridan’s partway-open door politely. “May I come in?” He pushed the door in a bit further while waiting for an answer.  
“Uh. Sure. I guess?”  
With this permission, Dualscar popped his head around the door before proceeding in. Last night’s cushion was still there on the floor beside the chair: a welcoming sign. Dualscar took it as invitation, and sank down onto it gratefully. He thrummed in pleasure as Eridan gave his hair a friendly ruffle, pressing into the touch. _Mmm._

His master chuckled above him. “Some reason you’re bein’ so friendly?” he inquired. Dualscar hesitated, considering. How much was desire and how much was need, and how much should he explain right then? Truth was simplest, he decided, and could invoke fellow-feeling in his opposite number, if he played his cards right.

“I’m used to seeing someone several times a night,” Dualscar admitted. “Not that I mind having only brief flashes of interaction with you -” wait, was that too insulting? And he didn’t want to sound like he was trying to hide - “but it’s just – unsatisfying.” His master threw him a mystified glance. Dualscar pressed on.

“I want company almost all the time. I like being near people; crowds, even,” he clarified. “Lately I only got to see people at mealtimes. Several times a night, someone would bring me food, and if I was lucky, I could get them to stay and chat for a bit! Never for long, though, and never the same person twice. They must’ve rotated through the whole crew trying to keep me fed.”  
Eridan slowly stopped typing, and turned to look at him quizzically. “Wwhy?”  
“So’s I couldn’t bond, I suppose,” Dualscar suggested. “Not that it would’ve helped if I had. Anyone who started making noise about, ‘hey, you ought to treat your breeder better,’ would’ve been headed straight for the cull.” He settled himself a bit more comfortably on the cushion, twisting to look at Eridan over his shoulder. “It wasn’t really bad treatment,” he divulged. “I was just lonely, ‘cause everyone stays away when I’m brooding.” He leaned his head onto Eridan’s leg and smiled shyly up at his master. “It’s nice to be with someone again.”

Eridan ignored the potential come-on, aside from giving him a quick pat; not interested, then, despite his youth. Maybe he had other loyalties. Dualscar sat back up, decided he wanted conversation as well as company, tonight, and took a gamble.  
“You said you read all about me,” he began. “What stories do they tell about me, still?”

Eridan took readily to the topic of _you were wonderfully impressive and by extension I must be too_ , as he’d expected. All the best-loved exploits, the favorite ‘coon-time stories, were recounted with the added benefit of several hundred sweeps of exaggeration slathered on top. Dualscar barely recognized a few of them. Others, he could swear, were pure invention, but obviously so well enjoyed that he forbore to mention it. Amused, he let himself be regaled until the best material had run out, and Eridan was attempting to describe how he’d come to a bad end.

“Bah,” interrupted Dualscar, “it wasn’t like that at all. They hunted me down and I slaughtered them in swarms until I was overrun. Then they hauled me in, ‘to judgment,’ they said, for that sham of a trial.” Unusually, it rankled him; he’d thought he was long over that particular indignation. “A downright farce!” he concluded, banging a heel on the floor. He was warming to his subject now, or perhaps that was just the anger heating his blood. “I did what I was sent to do, and bloody well did a better job at it than anyone else could’ve _hoped_ to do! I just _happened_ to fall out of favor, it seemed.”

Too petulant; he snorted fiercely, and discarded the sentiment as a distraction. “And after all that, you know what I was charged with?”  
“Righteous indignation?” suggested Eridan, leaning an arm over the back of his chair with a lazy grin.  
“They charged me with _’contempt’!_ ” Dualscar spat. “Of all things! I _ask_ you, have you ever known a seadweller to be _without_ his contempt?”  
“Uh,” Eridan tried to put in. Dualscar plowed onward regardless. “Of _course_ not!”  
“I, uh, actually havven’t knowwn all that many other seadwwellers.”  
“Hmmph.” He tried not to sound bitter. “You haven’t missed much.”

“I read all I could about you, includin’ your trial,” Eridan said, seemingly hesitant in the face of Dualscar’s tirade. “Evverythin’ just listed you as ‘culled for privvate use,’ an’ I could only _guess_ wwhat it meant for a breeder.”  
“About the same as it’d mean for anyone,” Dualscar confirmed, “only they take trouble to keep you alive longer. Well,” he reflected, “that might not be quite fair. It’s true that’s the usual designation for anyone a higher-up wants as a slave. But slaves like that are typically disposable, a dime-a-dozen, and I wasn’t.” He snorted. “For one thing, culling is supposed to remove you from the breeding pool; that’s the _point_ , isn’t it? No more undesirable genes? Not that I bred normally after that, but I should hope my grubs did.”

He sighed unhappily, and curled up as much as he could, hugging his knees loosely. “You know what I heard, way back when?” he offered, more quietly. His mood had taken a turn for the worse. “It wasn’t so much that I’d done anything especially wrong, or even drawn attention to myself. It was just, she – Her Imperious Condescension – wanted a breeder, because her last one had just _died._ An’ I was, well, visible. In her sights.”  
His master growled angrily. “So she wwas just tryin’ to replace a broken plaything, is that it?”  
“It just feels so _stupid_ ,” Dualscar admitted morosely. “I didn’t even get a chance to do anything _big_ , give them a _reason_ to hunt me down. A _real_ reason.”

A hand rubbed at his hair, patted his shoulder. He tried to relax and let his sadness flow away; it was slow to leave. Dualscar rolled his head around on his neck, trying not to sigh, lest his sighs turn to sobs. “I guess history doesn’t record _all_ the important stuff,” he suggested.

Eridan made a non-committal noise; his attention had returned to his screen, and he was rubbing a hand back and forth over his waist. _Thinking about egg-bearing_ , reasoned Dualscar. It wasn’t the right motion for someone suffering from a stomachache, at least. He tried to send _don’t worry_ feelings Eridan’s way, relaxing against his descendant’s side.  
A moment later, Eridan looked over at him. “I got some good newws for you! Kan just messaged me sayin’ your clothes are ready and she’s sent them off special express; they might get here tomorroww night wwith the other stuff.”

“That was fast,” Dualscar acknowledged. “She must have been working night and day! Will you send her my thanks, please? I’m most grateful that she bothered.”

“Um. Sure.” There was some tapping of keys. Dualscar chanced a look at the screen, and saw boxes of different colored text, alternating with violet; the top one was green. He didn’t look too long, not wanting to seem nosy. _A jadeblood, then. Fancy._ He let himself fall into a doze, enjoying the warmth of another body beside his.

Eridan continued typing away, occasionally switching between windows as the text scrolled up the screen. Dualscar watched out of the corner of his eye, without paying it too much heed. After a time, Eridan seemed to grow distressed by something on his screen, and typed frantically for a bit, leaning in as if to see better. “Fuck,” he pronounced, a moment later.

Dualscar jerked out of his mild stupor. _What, now? Here?_ His master still wasn’t actually looking at him, though. “What?” he asked cautiously, when no further comment was forthcoming. _Was that directed at me, or not?_  
“It’s,” his master waved vaguely at the screen, now showing alternating gold and violet text, “Sol. A message from Sol, I mean. He says Psii’s not doin’ wwell.”

At once, Dualscar whined, jerking toward the screen as if he could see through it, reach through it. _Ψ_. Eridan startled back away from him, leaning off the far side of the chair. Dualscar paid him no mind; he had eyes only for the golden words that bespoke his lover’s fate. 

**tA: 2o anyhow, tz fiinally got here**  
**tA: and ii'm copiing, but 2eriiou2ly thii2 2hiit cannot 2tand**  
**tA: iim not cut out for thii2, and iim not forciing hiim on tz**  
**tA: 2he doe2n’t de2erve haviing two put up wiith one of me let alone two**  
**tA: you got any more briight iidea2 ed**  
**tA: cau2e ii am fuckiing done**

“ _Easy!_ ” Eridan was saying; whether to him, or to his friend, Dualscar wasn’t sure. He pushed Dualscar’s face gently away from the monitor. “He’ll probably be fine. We’ll find him another place. Sol was the wwrong choice, I shoulda knowwn, he can’t even take care’a _himself_ -” 

“I’ll do it,” Dualscar interrupted.  
Eridan boggled at him, then pursed his lips. “No.”

Well, that wasn’t entirely unexpected, but he had a feeling it was for all the wrong reasons. Better come clean now; if he got what he wanted, it wouldn’t stay hidden for long.

“I fear you’ve misunderstood the nature of our relationship,” Dualscar began tentatively. His master might still choose to shut him down and declare the discussion closed at any moment. “I _like_ Ψ. He’s my closest” - _only_ \- “friend. If I could have chosen my mate for this season, I still would have chosen him.” _And not just because his grubs are easier to bear._

Dualscar’s fins had folded back protectively; his master still looked mad. “I truly believe Ψ doesn’t mean me any harm,” he proposed meekly. “He was probably just trying to show off his new hands – very ineptly, agreed, but without malice. He cares about me. I care about _him_.” The whole conversation was, annoyingly, taking on an air of _can I keep him?_ which seemed entirely inappropriate to Dualscar’s dignified sensibilities; he could imagine _Ψ_ whining in such a way, but to hear the wheedling tones from his own lips always left a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Please, _let_ me take care of him!” It seemed he was not above begging, after all. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but I promise I’ll do my best. I know some healing. More importantly, I know _Ψ_. Admittedly, he can be a handful if you’re not used to him, but I can keep him under control. I’ve done it before.” _Once_ , but he wouldn’t admit that out loud. His master looked skeptical, but seemed to be wavering.

“Wwhat if he tries to assault you again?”  
Not unexpected; Dualscar smiled reassuringly. “He’s physically weak, and I know all his vulnerable spots. If I have room to maneuver, Ψ won’t pose a threat.”  
Abruptly he wondered if his master would expect him to divulge those weak spots in order to exploit them. His mind rebelled against the prospect, having seemingly already assigned Ψ the simple designation of _mine_ (a category into which very few things fell.) It made some sense; his master had a goldblood already, so he shouldn’t need another? Dualscar realized he was being ridiculous. Since when had a seadweller rejected something he _wanted_ because he didn’t _need_ it?

His master still looked unconvinced. “You’re _sure_. You really wwant him to come here so you can look after him.”

“Yes! Please! I’ll –” Dualscar found himself at a loose end. Dammit, he hadn’t anything to offer but what his master had already _refused!_ “I’ll do anything,” he compromised, pleadingly; he hadn’t any cards left to play.

His master rolled his eyes. “That’s exactly wwhat I’m _afraid_ of, dummy.” Then he grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he said again; Dualscar still couldn’t be sure if he _meant_ it. “Fine. I’ll tell Sol to bring him ovver tomorroww. He’s gonna givve me such shit ovver this, I bet.”

“Why not now, if he needs help?” suggested Dualscar. He didn’t mean to push, he _really_ didn’t, but the anxiety was eating him away. Was Ψ hurt? Sick? He didn’t dare demand details when he couldn’t _do_ anything about them.  
“They gotta wwait ‘til there’s dark betwween us,” Eridan explained. “It’s full day outside by noww.” Dualscar cast a last longing glance at the text that stood between him and his prize, but soon settled down onto his cushion again.

He couldn’t help sneaking peeks over his shoulder, though, at the golden lines that seemed to be singing Ψ’s name. Once again, his gaze lingered on the screen: a bit _too_ long, perhaps? Suddenly, there was a hand atop his head, turning it firmly, inexorably back away. Dualscar froze, panicking. _He’s angry, he caught me snooping, he’ll hurt me, punish me now…_

Apparently not; his head got a firm pat, and was released without comment. _Maybe later?_ He felt perversely as if he were looking forward to it, just in order to get it over with. His master didn’t seem to anger easily, but that might just mean he’d hit harder when he finally _did_ snap. Dualscar had no real idea of what it would take to set him off, either. At any rate, sitting next to him while he was on the computer suddenly didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. Dualscar tried not to squirm restlessly as he took a few minutes to calm down, then excused himself as soon as politeness allowed.


	6. Arrivals and Departures, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Warnings for mentions of gore and suicidal tendencies in this bit)

Sitting on the floor was _not_ good for his back, Dualscar decided the next evening. He tried some gentle stretches to work the kinks out of his spine: ow. _Ow._ Shortly, he gave it up, and hobbled off to wash up and make breakfast.  
He had a meal of hot biscuits and leftover fish hash ready before he realized he should’ve waited for Eridan, again. Hmm. That faint creeling sound coming through the porthole probably meant he was already up, and outside. Dualscar mounted the stairs to the deck, and knocked on the door before opening it.

The noise stopped suddenly. Eridan turned toward him, startled, then quickly spun back away, rubbing furtively at his face. “Breakfast is ready,” Dualscar announced placidly, then added, “whenever you are.” He caught a “Right – be right there!” as he swung the door shut again.

Minutes later, Eridan appeared in the galley, face freshly washed and hair touseled. “I wwas wwaitin’ for the delivvery drones,” he offered shyly, sitting down at the table. “Should be comin’ soon.” Dualscar nodded noncommittally, and set a plate down in front of him, still warm. He didn’t start eating, though, until Dualscar sat down with his own plate.  
Dualscar was strangely touched. He cleared his throat, self-concious. “I’ll come up with you after breakfast then,shall I? To help you get things sorted out when they arrive.”  
“Mmph!” Eridan agreed, with his mouth full.  
He hung around while the dishes were being washed, too. Was he being friendly, or just feeling lonely? Excited? Anxious? At any rate, Dualscar enjoyed the company. _And more on the way!_ The sense of gleeful anticipation in the air was infectious.

Aside from glowering clouds, there wasn’t anything there when they got back to the deck, so after a short while, the two wound up leaning against the railing together, kicking their heels idly. Dualscar ran through his mental list of menus and hummed a bit, until he noticed Eridan was watching him curiously. _Quick, a distraction!_ “Er, I’m thinking of starting a large-scale hivecleaning project, if you’d allow it. I thought I could organize the libraries, get rid of some stuff you don’t use, that sort of thing.”

His master rocked back and forth for a minute before replying. “Mmm. I suppose it could use a good cleanin’. Keep an eye out for any stuff you wwant for your owwn room, too. I’m not usin’ most of it.” Noticing Dualscar’s startlement, he smiled. “Wwe’ll get you set up wwith the basics soon as your recuperacoon gets here. I wwas thinkin’ of that sittin’ room dowwn the hall from me, the one wwith all the ugly doilies, wwhaddya think?”

“Er. Wherever you want me is fine. You don’t think it’s – too big?” _It’s bigger than your room,_ he wanted to object. 

Eridan scoffed. “Naww,‘s fine. You’re bigger’n me, an’ I’m not usin’ it anyhoww. Wwe’ll movve out the furniture you don’t like, an’ you can get extra tables an’ chairs an’ wwhatnot from the libraries.”

Such a large room would surely look too bare with the furniture moved out, Dualscar thought. Well, at least the rug could stay. And…perhaps he’d get _extremely_ lucky, and Ψ could share his room? Perhaps his master wouldn’t want to give a mere goldblood a whole room of his own. It would be nice to have someone to help him out of the ‘coon in the evenings. And Ψ could hold the door shut and _no no stop that, bad Dualscar, what are you thinking! He’s sick or hurt or something. No strenuous activities._ But it wouldn’t be unreasonable to want to keep Ψ nearby during the day, in case he needed nursing. (How much malingering would be _too_ much malingering?) And then when he got better, perhaps he could just…stay there. Yeahhh. Dualscar allowed his pretty fantasy to run away with him for a few moments, not seeing any harm in the indulgence.

As it turned out, Dualscar was in the bathroom when the delivery drones came and went; Eridan was just starting down the far stairs with a package by the time he got back, so he shrugged and climbed back to the deck to do the same. The ‘coon was obvious, long and lumpy, and the ones near it were probably sopor. Most of the rest was bound for the galley, and needed to be schlepped down two flights of stairs and two hallways. After a short while of this fetch-and-carry routine, only the recuperacoon and its related packages remained. The two stared at it determinedly.

“Okay, it’s not too heavvy, right, wwe can each take an end –”  
“Oh wait, we need to move the other furniture out of the way first –”

Several minutes of bumbling and thumping around later, the recuperacoon was installed in a nearly-bare room. Dualscar filled it while Eridan dragged in some replacement pieces: a simple table and chair, a full-length mirror (what had _that_ been doing in a library?), a floor lamp for the corner, and another small one for the table. “Right, that should do you for noww,” said Eridan, pushing his hair back out of his eyes. “Let’s start unpackin’ the food.”

They had just started to hit their stride in the galley – Eridan unwrapping packages and Dualscar putting them away – when Eridan stopped short with a “Huh,” holding a long, bulky box tied with string. He spun it around and held it out, smiling. “Dualscar, I think this one’s for you.”  
He took it; the brown paper was emblazoned “ ** _Mr. D. Ampora_** ” in a fine hand – and that was _right_ , wasn’t it? It was squishable, soft – “From Kanaya?” he wondered aloud. His heart started beating faster.  
“Go open it!” Eridan urged. “I’ll finish up here.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. Dualscar tried not to run as he carried his precious package down the hall, up the stairs, and down another hall – but he felt like running, like flying rather. _Something for me, for my very own!_ He switched on the lamp and yanked the door to his new room rather hurriedly shut behind him; it still hung open a good ways, but he didn’t care. Dualscar knelt in the middle of the floor and tore at the knots in the string with shaky hands. When that fell loose at last, he carefully picked the tape open and pulled the wrapping away in one piece. Then, gently, reverently, he pulled the lid off the box.

And _oh_ , it was treasure indeed. Dualscar pulled out item after item, marveling at each one before spreading them over the table or chair. Two simple long-sleeved linen shirts, loose-fitting and wide-necked to slip over his horns, one white and one a natural unbleached off-white. Another, similar shirt in white, but much longer, almost a dress length; it reached past his knees. For sleeping in, perhaps? Two pairs of pants with elastic waists, one dark grey and the other, slightly larger, in black. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers for a moment; it was good quality, and would wear well. She’d sent several pairs of underwear, too, unexpected but sensible. 

…He couldn’t wait any longer. He tore off his tunic and donned underwear, pants, and wriggled into one of the shirts, tucking it in. The sleeves were looser than he’d expected; he’d have to cuff the ends somehow so they wouldn’t catch on things. But everything fit, as well it should after so much measuring, and it was both strange and pleasant to feel the fabric moving against his skin. He turned back to the package, excited; there was something still remaining in the bottom, and he couldn’t begin to guess what it was. Drawing it out, he found it was a wide-collared mid-length coat of grey wool, beautifully tailored, with a double line of violet rickrack trim running around the open edges. It had a single button at the breast that – he tried it on – yes, it would allow the coat to open around his belly, or let it fall closed if he _hadn’t_ one. _Oh, Kanaya._

While Dualscar was mooning over his reflection, Eridan knocked on the doorframe politely. He was carrying another box. “Here’s shoes.” He stepped into the room and his eyes widened.  
“You look. Um. Wwoww.”  
Dualscar was suddenly unsure. “Is it bad?”  
“No! No no no. Nothin’ like that, you look good! It looks good on you; I’ll havve to tell Kan.”  
_I can keep them, then?_ Hesitant now, Dualscar accepted the second box, and uncovered it to find a pair of boots, larger than he remembered. Alongside them were tucked several pairs of socks, or perhaps short stockings. He sat down and tried them both on – a good fit! Straightening, Dualscar stamped his foot and was delighted by the smart _click_ of the heel. He strode around the room a bit, happily clicking; Eridan watched, bemused, from the doorway. “I’ll just leavve you to it, then?” he said, backing away. 

Eventually Dualscar regained his senses, and decided it was high time he started cleaning up. The shoebox, with the socks in it, was placed inside the clothes box, which still lay amidst its wrapping. He ran his hand around the larger box thoughtfully, rustling the edges of the paper – and there, tucked into the near corner, he encountered a small handful of something soft. He drew it out still folded; it was striped bright red and white, and he thought of cold sharp mint, of healing. Curious, he pinched one edge and let it fall open. A note fluttered free; he picked it up and read it.

_I’m Sorry It Doesn’t Match, But This Is Just In Case You Like To Have Something Around Your Neck._

It was a sort of small scarf of thin fabric; a neckerchief, he supposed. It really _didn’t_ “go,” Dualscar concluded, trying different knots in the mirror, but he may as well use it. And if he didn’t like it on his neck, he could always take it off and find another use for it later. _There_. He gave himself one last looking-over and stomped his boots again, just for fun. His hair was a _mess_ , he realized with a shock. He tugged at the ragged ends, annoyed. It really ought to be trimmed properly. _I’ll have to see if I can borrow some sharp scissors._ Or perhaps his master would think he was complaining about how the cut had turned out, and be offended? It was possible. Given the knives in the galley, it was unlikely that his master wouldn’t trust him with a pair of shears. But would he want to cut it _himself_ , again? Dualscar shuddered at the thought of sharp blades near his earfins. Could he trust Eridan that much?

He ran his fingertips through the rough locks and grimaced. Just finding a brush or comb for it should suffice for the time being. _Enough preening. Back to work._  
Dualscar surveyed the remaining controlled fabric explosion with some trepidation; it was just so _much. I’ll need a wardrobe or a dresser or something._ For now, though, he folded what he wasn’t wearing, and returned it to the box, stuffing his discarded tunic underneath the new clothes. _Maybe I can use it for rags._ Then he moved the boxes, wrapper and string onto the table. _Might want a trash can in here too._ He turned off the lamp and headed back down the hall.

His new boots made an impressive _click click click_ as he strode down the hall; that wouldn’t do. He didn’t want it to seem like he was trying to be imposing, even just audibly, even accidentally. He lifted his heels and stalked forward silently on his toes. Better.

His first stop was the main bathroom, where a short and dusty search turned up a pack of assorted combs in many colors. A medium-length black one, not too fine-toothed, suited him perfectly. He tugged his hair straight, wetting it down lightly in some places, until he was satisfied he couldn’t do much more with it; the natural wave wouldn’t lie flat for anything. He hung his arms at his sides while he turned his head back and forth for the mirror. The comb caught on something at his hip.

 _A loose thread?_ he mused, pushing his coat back to look. No, there was actually a gap along the seam, but it seemed to be lined. He slipped his fingers, and then his whole hand inside to feel; it was a pocket. His other hand found one on the opposite hip, too.  
A shiver of glee overtook him. Pockets! He had _pockets_ again! What’s more, pockets that fit _his whole hand!_ Delightedly, he stuck the comb in one of them, and made a few final poses for the mirror before heading out. _I really must thank her properly._

Back in the galley, Dualscar went about unobtrusively retrieving the groceries Eridan had scattered, and putting them away where he _wanted_ them. Had the potatoes wound up under the sink just because the boy couldn’t find a better place for them? _Honestly!_  
While he fussed, Eridan stewed, restlessly tapping his nails against a mug, then shoving his chair back and pacing the length of the table. It was driving Dualscar stir-crazy, but he didn’t dare say so. “You can go wait for them outside,” he suggested, alphabetizing the spice rack. “I’ll come join you when I’m done here.”

Eridan practically leapt out the door; true to his words, Dualscar followed shortly afterwards. “What time are they due to arrive?” he inquired, after several minutes of mutual standing around and staring at angry clouds.  
“Another hour or twwo, I think,” replied Eridan distractedly; he didn’t remove his worried gaze from the sky. Another diversion seemed necessary, before they both fretted each other into fits. 

“I’d like to write to thank Kanaya for the clothes, if you’ll permit me to send her a letter.”  
His master turned to look at him curiously. “Oh. I wwas just gonna send her a message later.”  
“I know,” Dualscar said, pulling his fins in and widening his eyes in supplication, “but I thought she might like getting something physical in return. It just feels more formal, more official that way. And it gives her a sort of token, a reminder that she’s done a favor for a seadweller. I shall have to find a way to repay her,” he mused rhetorically; likely that would be his master’s problem.

Eridan hmmed for a bit, chewing it over, and then he grinned. “I’vve got just the thing.” Downstairs in his desk, it turned out, he had been hoarding a block of heavy cream paper just begging for ink and dozens of matching envelopes. It looked practically untouched. “Never had much opportunity to write to someone?” Dualscar thought aloud, pulling out a few sheets.  
Eridan drooped ever so slightly. “No - not all official-like, anywway. Only talkin’ online, mostly.”  
“Mmm,” Dualscar said indulgently. “Maybe you will yet.” He dithered over the pen selection for a while, trying some likely candidates on a notepad, rejecting most of the fancier nibbed ones as too fussy or not in good shape. Eventually he settled on a plain kind that didn’t need an inkwell. Turning back to a hovering Eridan, he inquired, “Have you got a portable writing surface? I’d like to take this back up to the deck so I can write while I wait with you.”

“Oh – you don’t havve to do that –” Eridan was pulling open drawers and rooting through them, leaving them half-open with the contents hanging out. _That cleaning project had better start in here, I guess._  
“No, I insist! I’m anxious too. And anyhow it’ll give me a chance to tell Kanaya how warm my new coat is.” Dualscar smoothed a hand over the lapel proprietarily.  
“It is getting’ a bit brisk out there, isn’t it?” Eridan handed over a clipboard he’d turned up somewhere, looking distracted and uncertain. “I wwonder if I should put on another layer?”  
“Whatever you think is best,” Dualscar assured him. It wasn’t much good trying to give advice to someone who wasn’t really paying attention. He waited in the hall while Eridan frittered around in his wardrobe, finally emerging in a regally-styled cape. _Dressing to impress, are we? I hope that isn’t a challenge aimed at me._

Back on deck, Dualscar tucked himself under an overhang to write in case the rain started suddenly. While he sat, composing his letter and trying not to chew the pen, Eridan flitted about the deck and paced; Dualscar struggled against an urge to hunch protectively over his paper and growl whenever he got too near. The letter was finished and signed with a flourish with still no sign of their expected visitors. “What should I do with this now?”

Eridan removed his eyes from the sky for the briefest of moments. “Just stick it in an envvelope an’ leavve it on my desk somewwhere,” he replied. “I’ll call for a mail drone later.”  
Belowdecks, Dualscar sealed the envelope with some trepidation; did his master really not intend to read it first? Would signing the seal to mark tampering be insulting? Moreover, the desk was a mess! Dissatisfied, he settled for propping the envelope, now bearing the legend “To Miss Kanaya” – he’d have to ask Eridan for the rest of her name, but it could wait – on the computer’s keyboard so that it covered part of the monitor. If Eridan did prove as disorganized as he seemed, at least he’d be reminded of the thing for as long as it took him to pick it up and set it down somewhere else. Out of distractions, Dualscar stopped in the bathroom before braving the stairs to the deck once more.

Some interminable time later, a lopsided red-and-blue speck bobbed into view on the horizon, and grew rapidly closer. Dualscar shook off his bored daze, and heaved himself to his feet from where he’d been listlessly sprawled against the rail. His master stretched, straightened, threw his shoulders back. “About _time_.”

It hadn’t started properly raining yet, but every so often there was a threatening drop, as though the looming storm was an emotionally needy madman trying to menace them. _You better watch out! I’m totally gonna do it! …Any minute now. Hey, are you even watching? Pay attention, dammit! I’m gonna rain on you, I swear!_ Best not to linger outside too long, Dualscar decided.

The matched pair of psionics reached the ship mere moments later. They looked so dissimilar from a distance: one large, alternating raggedy with unnatural metal-shine, and one small, spitting sparks like he wanted to tear someone’s head off. _That’s the twin of Ψ’s temper, for sure._ They settled to the deck with barely a growl of greeting from the smaller to Dualscar’s master, followed by a “Hey, wake up, athhole! We’re here!”

Ψ’s touchdown, Dualscar noted, ended in a short wobble when his feet hit the deck, like he’d been dropped without warning. _He wasn’t flying on his own, then?_ That could be bad. Perhaps he was still disoriented. Or maybe his descendent had been trying to show off his own strength? Dualscar felt his heart swell with emotions, a sudden wave of _pitylovewarmth(want)_ nearly swamping him. Ψ looked so lost and alone. He faced Eridan uncertainly. “Dee?”

“Over here, Ψ,” called Dualscar.  
Ψ turned. “Oh my god, Dee, there’th a little you _too?_ ”

Meanwhile, his master approached the smaller psionic - _Sollux,_ Dualscar reminded himself – with a slight swagger and eyebrow raised speculatively. “So, Sol, you wwant to wwork off some stress?” This was met with a blank look, followed by a matching raised eyebrow, followed by the two of them suddenly shooting off down the stairs in a _zip_ of red and blue sparks. From below, there came the sound of a door slamming, and then a long moment’s silence.  
“Ith that what they’re calling it thethe nightth?” put in Ψ.  
Dualscar sighed through his nose. “As always, your timing needs work.”

Ψ turned back towards him, then, and they could finally, _finally_ embrace properly. Dualscar slung both arms around Ψ and pulled him close, ignoring his surprised “oof!” Answering arms wrapped awkwardly around him. Dualscar said nothing, just held him, drinking in Ψ’s presence, his warmth. He smelled of sweat, and tiredness, and stress, and _worse_ things, and clung every bit as ferociously as Dualscar did. Dualscar allowed himself, for just a moment, to think, finally, quietly, _mine_.

“I thought I _dreamed_ you, Dee,” Ψ mumbled into Dualscar’s neck. “I woke up and you were there, and then I woke up again and you _weren’t_. And, and, and, I wath _glad_ , I mean I thought you were _dead_ with everyone elthe, but it meant you wouldn’t be _hurting_ anymore. I’m thorry. I’m thorry I wanted that.”  
Dualscar patted his back, whispering reassurances that he was indeed real and alive and truly there, half-wishing they could just _stay_ like that, together. But no, there were things that needed doing, and anyhow love wouldn’t stop the rain. Reluctantly, slowly, he released Ψ, but didn’t step away.

Ψ smiled at him, and happily rubbed their cheeks together. He raised a shiny metal hand toward Dualscar’s head, but stopped halfway, looking puzzled.  
“Dee, what happened to your _hair?_ ”  
“...It got cut,” Dualscar answered quietly, glancing at the door automatically. Of course, his master was nowhere to be seen.  
Ψ looked hurt. “But I _liked_ your hair!” he wailed. “I wath looking forward to – I wanted to run my _handth_ through it!” Abruptly, Dualscar was sorry he hadn’t given it more thought.  
“I’ll grow it out again,” he offered placatingly. “In a few sweeps, it’ll be long enough to braid again. I’m sorry, Ψ, I didn’t _know_ -”  
Ψ interrupted him. “No, it’th my fault, I didn’t tell you, I didn’t ever thay anything ‘cauthe they would have jutht cut it off right _there_ -” 

He stumbled, suddenly, listing horribly to one side. Dualscar managed a frantic grab on to one metal hand as Ψ almost pitched over the rail; he had a sudden horrible vision of the arm pulling free with an awful sound, plunging his lover into an unforgiving drop.

Naturally, no such thing happened; after a moment, Ψ managed to get his feet under him once more.  
“What’s wrong, Ψ?”  
“Been thick,” Ψ clarified. He seemed a bit woozy still, and Dualscar steadied him.  
“What did you _eat_?”  
“Dunno. Thtuff.”  
“…The fact that you could not _recognize_ your food is as unsurprising as it is alarming,” Dualscar declared. “Honestly, I think these kids have been living on junk food for ages. Maybe it’s all he had. Quite likely, it’s all he knows how to make.”  
Ψ looked embarrassed. “Um. Altho, I can’t, um, control my body properly, yet.”  
Well, that explained the _smell._ “Let’s get you cleaned up, then,” Dualscar decided. “You can wear something of _mine_ ” – a small thrill – “while I wash your clothes.” Still chattering, he towed a subdued, gently floating Ψ down the stairs to what he’d decided must be the guest bathroom, stopping briefly to snag a few more towels from the master bath, and determinedly ignoring any and all noises they passed on the way. “Let’s try you on just water for now, to get you rehydrated” he declared, “and move on to broth and such in a little while if you’re still all right. If you can manage to keep that down, we’ll try phasing in soft stuff in another night or two. We’re going to need to reestablish your gut bacteria; that won’t be pretty.”

Dualscar gave Ψ a cup of water, along with strict instructions to “sip it!” before he knelt down to turn on the taps on the tub. When he could no longer stand the heat of the water, he closed the drain and levered himself back upright to shrug off his coat and hang it on a hook by the door. Ψ took great interest in these mundane proceedings.  
“Dee! You’re wearing clotheth again! Regular clotheth, thith time!”  
“That I am,” Dualscar agreed warmly. Ψ’s eyes widened.  
“You know what thith _meanth?_ ”  
“What?”  
“I can _finally get into your pantth!_ ”  
Dualscar joined his genuine laughter to Ψ’s screeching cackle. It felt _good_ to have a friend again, to let his guard down at last.  
“You look _good_ in clotheth,” Ψ offered. “Maketh you thtand up thtraighter.”

Meanwhile, Dualscar had fetched over a stack of washcloths, and laid a folded towel down for a bathmat. Kneeling on it, he rolled up his sleeves, eyed the water level, then flicked a metal foot with a nail.  
“These waterproof?”  
“I dunno. Didn’t try it. You know I hate water.”  
A good point. “Well, I hope you won’t object to a bath, at least,” said Dualscar, sighing. “You’ll only be partway submerged, I promise.”  
Ψ shook his head firmly. “No, I want to get clean.”

 _Hmm_ ing thoughtfully, Dualscar turned back to the tub and dipped his fingertips in; the temperature registered as _owhot!_ , making him jerk his hand back sharply and shake it. He wet a cloth and handed it to Ψ. “How’s this feel?”  
Gingerly, Ψ tried the cloth on his lips, then eagerly pressed his face into it. “Mmm. That’th _tho_ nithe.”  
“Right, then!” said Dualscar, shutting off the water and rolling up his loose sleeves. “You need my help getting undressed?”  
Ψ narrowed his eyes seductively. “I _want_ you to help undreth me.”

Once Ψ’s rags had been peeled off and kicked into a corner, Dualscar directed him into position. “Back toward the floor, feet toward the faucet, and here,” he gently bent Ψ’s knees for him, sliding his floating form over the tub, “like that. Now just lower yourself down slow, all right? And come back out if it’s too hot.” He kept hold of Ψ’s feet, planting them on either side of the faucet. “Good. Now just rest your arms on the sides.”  
He’d judged correctly; most of Ψ was underwater, but the prosthetics remained dry. 

Ψ clasped his hands together, and relaxed back into the warmth, looking blissful. While he soaked, Dualscar turned his attention elsewhere; the water was too hot for him to wash Ψ’s hair without a scoop, but he could certainly fuss over it. “Your hair is like _straw_ , Ψ! I’m almost afraid to touch it.” He busied himself sorting through the myriad tiny bottles on the shelf over the bath, then paused to tip one in. “Oh! Here; bath oil. It’ll make your skin soft.” Ψ hummed and chuckled softly to himself, merrily ignoring the bustle above his head. Eventually Dualscar was satisfied with his selection of specialty shampoo, conditioner and body wash, and turned back to Ψ with a gleam in his eye. “Right! Sit up, now. Let’s get you clean.”

Ψ squeaked – a sound Dualscar’s brain cataloged as _distressing but cute_ \- whenever the soapy washcloth found a particularly sensitive area. Judging solely by the sound, these were absolutely _everywhere_ , from the back of his neck to his armpits to the small of his back.  
“Goodness. Ticklish much?”  
“I can’t help it, Dee!” Ψ protested, as he fought off another spasm of twitching. “I’m not _uthed_ to it. No one _toucheth_ me.”

With a saucy grin, Dualscar rubbed teasingly at Ψ’s belly. “Really, no one? Never ever?” Suddenly, he swept the cloth lower, provoking one long, drawn out “eeeeeEEEEP!” and a lot of floundering. _Good thing my master’s otherwise occupied, and unlikely to catch me when I’ve practically got a lapful of soapy wet someone else._  
“All right, no one bethideth you,” said Ψ, when his breathing had steadied. He settled back down slowly.

Very gently, Dualscar maneuvered the cloth around Ψ’s scabs, where the bioware had penetrated his flesh to link with his nerves; the skin was barely healed, and some spots were threatening to reopen from the warm soaking. He tried to make conversation to take Ψ’s mind off the discomfort. 

“Whatever made your descendent believe that he could take care of you, if he can’t even care for himself properly?”  
Ψ shifted uncomfortably; the water in the tub sloshed. “Probably ‘cauthe he’th black for yourth, and didn’t want to be shown up.”  
“Silly of him,” Dualscar said. “You aren’t nurtureful folk. Here, lift up a bit and I’ll slip a towel under you so you have something softer to rest those scrawny bones on.” Ψ obliged.

Dualscar spread a towel on the bottom of the tub to cushion Ψ‘s hips and shoulders. “All right. Settle back down now for a rinse, please, and tip your head back,” he urged. “I’ll wash your hair. Want a cloth for your face to catch the soap?”  
Ψ nodded. “Mmmm!” But instead of leaving the warm cloth rolled up on his forehead, he drew it down to bury his whole face in it again.  
“Goodness. Can you _breathe?_ ”  
“Mmf. ‘M _fine,_ Dee.”

 _Tsk_ ing, Dualscar scooped handfuls of water over Ψ’s hair, then poured on the shampoo and started gingerly working it in. Already brittle from poor nutrition, the hair was weakened still further by the soaking, and seemed likely to snap and fray nastily at the slightest ill treatment.  
_Much like Ψ himself. Careful, careful._

Once it was thoroughly soaped, Dualscar scooped up more water to rinse it.  
Ψ pulled the washcloth off his face. “You done?”  
“Not quite yet,” Dualscar said, reaching for the last bottle. _For God’s sake, my knees ache something awful._ “I still have to work this conditioner through your hair to get the knots out.” Though the hair was, thankfully, now clean and unmatted, it had turned into a terrible tangled mess.  
Ψ muttered darkly and covered most of his face with the washcloth again, perhaps going for an “I’m annoyed and bored now, so I’m going to ignore you and take a nap” look, but Dualscar could see his brows knit whenever the snarls in his hair got snagged on Dualscar’s claws. Slowly and gently, Dualscar picked these apart, using his clawtips or the corner of his comb on spots where his fingers were too blunt.

While the conditioner soaked in, Dualscar scrubbed gently at Ψ’s face and ears with a fresh soapy cloth. The skin here had remained exposed most of the time, so it was a bit less delicate, but it seemed to have acquired layers of built-up grime as well. “Whatever happened to your headband?”  
“Dunno. Ith it mithing? I didn’t notithe.”

One thorough rinse of his head, and Dualscar was ready to declare Ψ “clean;” the fleshy bits, at least. After some thought, he took a couple more clean washcloths, wet one at the tap and spread a bit of the body wash on it. This he rubbed up and down each metal limb in turn, followed by a damp cloth to remove the soap, followed by a dry cloth to remove the water. _A bit like polishing silverware_. Ψ submitted to the process without complaint; he didn’t seem to be getting the same haptic feedback from them as he had from his actual skin.

Finished, Dualscar slumped heavily to the side, one elbow on the tub’s edge. The warmth of the room and the humid air, the soft _plips_ and sloshing sounds of the water had gradually crept up on him, until he was nearly overcome by a sort of peaceful fog. Idly, he dangled one hand over the edge and stirred the water with his fingertips. It truly felt as if he was, for the moment, _safe_ , as if nothing bad could enter here to disturb them. His mind wandered.  
“Why did you assume I was dead?” he wondered aloud. “And what did you mean about ‘everyone else’?”

Ψ gave him a crafty grin. “Well, when the kidth found me, I could tell ‘em which buttonth to push to get me out. But gee,” he attempted to look innocent, “ _nobody_ told me to thwitch the power back from the defentheth to life thupport before they took me down! There’th a way to do it manually, of courthe, but I doubt there wath anyone left on board who could figure it out in time. And anyhow, thothe kidth were _brutal_ , Dee. From what I could tell, everyone they’d met on the way in had gone down in a big, definite way.”

Dualscar remained skeptical. “Oh, come on. _Everyone?_ They’re _kids,_ Ψ!”  
“But that’th what maketh them tho effective!” Ψ countered. “While you’re buthy thaying that, your throat getth cut.”  
“Still,” Dualscar persisted, “ _somebody_ must have escaped, right? They can’t have gone through that whole ship.”  
“Ethcaped to _where_ , Dee? We were the only ship around, and we were _between tholar thythtemth!_ I thtill don’t know how we got back _here!_ ”  
Ψ was clearly frustrated; Dualscar hesitated to press the point. “What did they tell you?”  
Ψ’s arms and hands twitched agitatedly. “All they’ll thay ith ‘shenaniganth,’ no matter who I athk. Thome kinda wormhole or thomething, I’m betting. Jutht ath well they didn’t make _me_ try to navigate it.”

It bothered Dualscar, this blithe assertion of a clean sweep of lost souls. _Hah! Got it._ He tapped Ψ’s nose. “You can’t convince me,” he loomed theatrically, proud challenge in his eyes, “that the _Condesce_ didn’t escape.”  
Ψ’s face lit up at that – hell, he practically _glowed_. “Oh,” he said, both reverent and gleeful. “That’th the _betht part_. When I saw _her_ , she wath _already dead._ ”  
Dualscar gaped in shock as Ψ went on. 

“Tho they were towing me back the way they came in. I wath kind of out of it at firtht – you know how I get dithoriented when I’m unhooked – but I remember there wath thith really imprethive trail of blood and dead bodieth, like they’d been afraid they’d get lotht without leaving thomething to follow? And we came into thith one room, and,” Ψ broke off his reminiscing for a moment, suffused with joy. “She was jutht _lying_ there, it wath fantathtic! With thith big _hole_ in her! Like, like the cleanerth jutht hadn’t come in yet to tidy up! And I jutht thtarted _laughing_ , and all thethe kidth were thtaring at me, but I jutht couldn’t thtop! The whole time it took to pull all her limbth off, and twitht off her head, and thnap her hornth off and _thtab_ her with them, I jutht couldn’t thtop laughing. But you’ll be happy to know I thtabbed them both into her _heart._ Becauthe I am a _gentleman_.”  
For long moments, Dualscar could only stare at him in horrified, pitying dismay. There wasn’t really an _answer_ to that kind of delirious fever-dream. “The kids must _really_ have given you funny looks _then_ ,” he got out at last.

Ψ continued to shake with silent laughter for so long, Dualscar feared he was actually shivering from the cooling bathwater. He reached out to lay a hand on Ψ’s belly.  
“How’s your stomach feel?” He rubbed it, very gently, as he spoke: _right here, this spot under my hand, I mean._ Ψ considered.  
“Not good, but not bad either?” he concluded eventually. “I mean, well, it definitely _feelth_. It’th weird. It doethn’t hurt, though. And it’th nithe to finally be clean.”  
“Good!” Dualscar beamed at him, forced his knees to straighten ( _ow_ ), and hauled himself upright. “I’ll get you another cup of water. The heat can dehydrate you, even when you’re soaking wet! Once you’re dried and dressed we can go to the galley for something a little more substantial. Here, now – I said _sips!_ Honestly.” He smiled fondly down at Ψ, and gave his nearer hand a loving caress.

Ψ smiled back, squeezing his hand crushingly hard, and something _clicked_ in his mind. _Oh._ It could wait a bit, though. Once he’d gotten Ψ out and dried, and towed him down the hall in a towel (“At least _try_ taking steps” “I can’t figure out my _kneeth,_ Dee”), and dressed him in the long shirt-dress thing (which make him look inexplicably even _paler_ , now that his skin was cooling off from the bath), and rooted around in the desk for something to keep it from slipping right _off_ of him, they finally made it to the galley. After setting some leftover fish bits on to simmer for stock, Dualscar pulled an apple from the fruit bowl, and placed it in Ψ’s hand. “Now, I don’t want you to eat this,” he said warningly. “Just to grip it. Squeeze it like you were squeezing my hand earlier.”

The apple was quickly crushed; startled, Ψ dropped it. He held his hand, still dripping juice, up in front of him, looking betrayed, as Dualscar retrieved the offending fruit. “Oh shit,” he said softly. “Shit, Dee, I mutht’ve been hurting you. I’m thorry. I’m tho thorry. _Ohh_ ,” and now he looked positively guilty, “and before too?” Dualscar gave him a cautious nod, and his face crumpled. He held both hands up as if questioning whether they were worth it, and then buried his face in them. “I’m _tho thorry,_ Dee,” he said at last. “Can you _ever_ forgive me?”

Dualscar wrapped both arms around his shoulders, and patted Ψ’s back reassuringly. “Shh, now,” he soothed. “It’s all right, it wasn’t your fault. You need calibration, is all.” He continued a string of _I’m all right_ s and _not your fault_ s as Ψ trembled and hid in his arms, ashamed. By the time he was calm enough to release, the broth was ready; Dualscar strained it, gave a mugful to Ψ, and prepared to store the rest in the refrigerator.  
As he ladled it out, a thought hit him. _Jutht a temp thet._ “Ψ,” Dualscar began cautiously, “why don’t you ask Eridan when your permanent limbs will be ready? I believe it should be sometime soon, and we’ll need to go have them fitted. He probably won’t know, but he can find out. And whoever’s in charge of that will need to know to contact him instead of Sollux.”

There was a clamor in the hall that grew suddenly louder; into the room swept Eridan and his black paramour, both looking somewhat the worse for wear, but satisfied. Eridan’s hair had gone from “skillfully windblown” to “caught in a hurricane;” Dualscar _tsk_ ed to himself. They settled themselves at the table next to Ψ. “What’s for lunch?” asked Eridan artlessly. “It smells good.”

For a moment, Dualscar flailed mentally. “Uh.” He surveyed the broth he’d been bottling. “I…guess I could make soup? But it’ll take a while.” They had the right vegetables, yes, he’d put them away...  
Sollux punched his master in the arm amicably. “Eathe up, dumbath! He’th got other rethponthibilitieth now, you know.” Ψ sipped his broth (very loudly), but thankfully without other comment. His metal hands were curved around the mug without quite touching it, but it was a reasonable approximation.

Eridan looked startled, and rubbed his arm. “Oh! S-sorry.” Dualscar stared at him closely. He had a _bite_ on his _fin_. How long had they been together if Sollux was pulling crap like that? How secure was their relationship if Eridan hadn’t told him _not_ to? He set the broth back on to simmer, then pulled out a clean towel and wet the end. This he carried to the table and used to dab at the bloody mark. Eridan yowled and squirmed.  
“You need to treat this right away,” Dualscar insisted. “If it gets infected, it might scar and be useless.” He looked hard at Sollux. “Don’t you know what fins are for?”  
Sollux shrugged. “I jutht know he thcreamth real pretty when I bite ‘em.”  
Dualscar sighed; this discussion would have to wait. “You two go get cleaned up. Lunch won’t be for an hour or so.”

Ψ raised an eyebrow at him when they were gone. Dualscar flushed. “Oh, don’t you start.”  
“Well. What wath _that_ all about?”  
“It – it’s complicated, okay? I simply cannot figure him out,” confessed Dualscar, pulling out vegetables. “Instead of _I’m in charge_ , he keeps pinging me as _take care of me_ , as if he was one of my _grubs!_ I have no _idea_ what kind of impression I’m giving, but it can’t be good!”  
“Well, he kind of _ith_ ,” Ψ offered. “One of your grubth, I mean. Does he thee himthelf that way, with you ath hith protector? You’re bigger than him, and not acting threatening. Hell, you’re taking better care of him than he ith of himthelf! It would make thenthe, ath much ath anything doeth, lately.”  
“Well,” Dualscar admitted, scrubbing potatoes, “he thinks a lot of his ancestor, who I guess is me? Wait, was me, rather? Wait, no,” his mind spun in circles, “It’s just – I’m not who he thinks I am, maybe? I’m not who I was, when I was his ancestor.”

Ψ snorted. “Tho what? Neither ith he a bucket of thlurry anymore.”  
“ _Ψ!_ ”  
Dualscar threw a piece of carrot at him, blushing harder; halfway there, it reversed directions, zoomed back and landed neatly in the soup.  
“People change, ith my point. That’th all.”  
Ψ shifted in his seat. “Obviouthly, he didn’t ekthpect you to be thailing around doing your thea captain bit thtill, or you would’ve been doing it outthide hith door.” He fidgeted again, and Dualscar dumped in a can of corn and added a last shake of seasoning before he covered the simmering pot and stepped out from behind the counter.  
“Come on, looks like it’s time for a bathroom break.”

Dualscar led Ψ down the hall to the nearest bathroom and got him sorted out. The yelps and screeching from the upper deck had ceased; theoretically, Eridan’s fin was now thoroughly disinfected and the boys had moved on to other, hopefully non-destructive, pursuits. He judged retrieving a second toothbrush worth the risk. Sure enough, he didn’t encounter anyone on the way, and returned quickly with his blue-handled prize. He had to pretty much brush Ψ’s teeth for him, but Ψ seemed to catch on quickly, and could finish the job unaided.  
“This one’s yours,” Dualscar said. “I’ll leave it in this cup on the sink here, all right? Mine’s in the cabinet.” He opened it to point it out. “And the polish will be in here too.” Ψ nodded brightly, and they headed back to the galley.

“Now!” Dualscar announced brightly. “I’m going to teach you to make tea for me. Are you following?” He beamed at Ψ, who nodded. Dualscar put water in the kettle, set it on the stove and snapped the burner on, then retrieved the canister of tea from the cabinet, the tea ball and a spoon from separate drawers, and a mug from the cupboard above the sink. He measured tea into the ball, shut it, set it in the mug and returned the tea and spoon to their places. When the kettle began whistling, he turned off the burner and filled the mug to a bit below the rim. “Think you can remember all that?”

Ψ nodded again. “Mmm.”

“Good. When this is done steeping, I’ll have you show me.”

A few minutes later, when Dualscar judged the tea to be strong enough, he discarded the used leaves and cleaned out the tea ball, then returned it to the drawer before sitting down next to Ψ.  
“Now. Please make me tea, Ψ.” Pressing his fingertips together, Ψ grinned. The kettle filled itself at the sink, then floated to the stovetop, which turned on. Tea, ball, spoon and mug assembled themselves on or slightly above the counter in their proper order: tea in ball, ball in mug.  
“Oh. Leave out the spoon a moment, Ψ.” Dualscar got up and retrieved something from the cabinet the tea had come from. Meanwhile, the whistling kettle had upended itself over the waiting mug. As an afterthought, the stove burner snapped back off before the kettle was returned to it. Finally the mug floated over to the table and set itself down in front of Ψ. “How’d I do?”

“Fine! Fine, just perfect. Here, bring over that spoon. You’ll want sweetener, I imagine.” Dualscar was prying the lid off the sugar canister as he spoke. Ψ perked up. “Now I know you’ll want two spoonfuls, but I’m going to make them _small_ spoonfuls, all right? I want you to eat _healthy_.”  
“Your conthern for making me latht longer ith touching, Dee,” Ψ said wryly.

Dualscar poured the sugar into the already-steeped mug, and stirred. Ψ cocked his head. “That one’th mine?”  
“Well, of course! I wouldn’t ask you to make tea for me if I didn’t plan to drink it.” The sugar having dissolved, he switched the mug in front of him for the steeping one in front of Ψ, smiling. “Why, did you secretly poison the second mug when I was blinking?”  
“No, but I didn’t want to thubject you to my louthy cooking thkillth, which can thicken people without poithon being involved.”  
Dualscar grinned to himself at this obvious embarrassed bluster. “Ψ, there was only _one ingredient_. Two, if you count the water. About the only thing that can go wrong with tea is making it stronger or weaker than you want.” He fished out the tea ball. “Speaking of which, this is about done.”  
The tea ball zoomed out of his hand, emptied, cleaned, and dried itself, and returned to the drawer. Dualscar sipped his tea with a sly glance at Ψ. “I can already tell you’re going to be a big help around here. If I _let_ you.”  
“You can’t do it all yourthelf, Dee.”  
“ _Hah!_ Watch me try.”

They sat, drinking tea, in relative silence for a few moments; there was an argument above them, that grew ever more audible in a way that meant someone would probably be stomping down the stairs in short order. _Gracious, I forgot about dessert. Sweet biscuits should do._ Surreptitiously, the sugar had returned itself politely to the cabinet.

As Dualscar heaved himself to his feet to resume cooking, he gave Ψ a smile, trying to capture the dreamy contentment he’d felt earlier. “Still want to die?” _I hope not._ “I mean, I did promise, if it was safe.”  
Ψ made a kind of “pfft!” sound, setting down his tea. “ _Hell_ no, Dee! Not right _now!_ ”  
“Well, good,” concluded Dualscar. “I didn’t agree to care for you because I thought it would be over with soon.”

Ψ leaned an elbow on the table, an almost-natural pose that mimicked Dualscar’s earlier posture. “No. You invited me here because you, and _another_ you, and _nobody elthe_ , would be a thyclical cluthterfuck.” Dualscar flinched, almost spilling the baking powder.

“Er,” he began. “Well. I will admit to, um, wanting you around for – reasons of my own?” At this, Ψ’s half-scowl turned gradually into a full-on leer, and yes, this was the _perfect_ time for the boys to return, wasn’t it. Hastily Dualscar pulled open the silverware drawer. “Ψ, can you set places?” He held up a fork in one hand, knife and spoon in the other. “Like this, for each of us.”  
“For me too?”  
“Yes, unless you’d rather drink your broth from a mug again. It should be a bit more flavorful than it was an hour ago.”  
The silverware slid obligingly out of the drawer and assembled itself on the table. Eridan boggled at it, then at Ψ, until Sollux whapped him on the head, and they started a short-lived scuffle.

“No slapfights at the table, please; you’ll upset something,” said Dualscar in a placid tone, putting the biscuits in the oven and setting the timer. “The soup will be on momentarily.” He had to stretch a bit to reach down the bowls he wanted, but the ladles were close at hand. Once filled, he called them out and Ψ floated them over to the table.  
“This one’s Eridan’s. Here’s one for Sollux. This is yours; it’s mostly all broth.” There was a light tugging on the final bowl as he brought it over. “I can _carry my own_ soup, thank you!” Eridan was poking at Sollux with a fork, evidently to keep him from eating before Dualscar sat down. After that, there was nothing but a good deal of slurping and pleased noises on all sides for a while.

“Dualscar?”  
When Dualscar looked up at him, Eridan seemed strangely timid. He nodded for the boy to continue.  
“Wwhy’re wwe usin’ the good plates wwith the regular silvverwware?”  
Oh. “Well, I wanted to use the nice dishes, since you have company over,” Dualscar started, “but the nice silverware has three-tined forks, and I thought it would look funny to have one place setting different, or use the good knives and spoons with the regular forks. I can’t serve Ψ with a three-tined fork,” he explained to Eridan’s continued blank look.

It was replaced by an expression of annoyance and disbelief. “But he _signs his name_ with a fuckin’ three-tined fork!”  
“Oh, aye! And I suppose you _want_ your best forks to have their outer tines turned into aesthetically pleasing curves?”  
Dualscar bit his tongue and turned away, suddenly uncomfortable; dammit, he shouldn’t have lost his temper like that. Why did this _particular_ thoughtless comment rankle him so? Ψ reached over and wrapped a metal hand around one of his, as far as it would go, offering comfort.

“I’m thorry. It’th my fault.”  
“No! It’s – ” Dualscar broke off, frustrated with the whole situation. Was it really necessary to be having this fight _during_ lunch, with an _audience?_ He lowered his voice. “I shouldn’t be made to feel bad over things I do for you.”

Sollux was snickering at something; when Dualscar looked over, he was holding his empty bowl at arm’s length from the table, out of an unhappy Eridan’s reach. “Tho thethe are your good bowlth, huh?”  
“Dee?” asked Ψ very quietly. Dualscar turned back to answer him. “Yes, I care.”  
With a nasty grin, Sollux dropped the bowl. It didn’t fall.

Across the table from him, Ψ slurped his soup as loudly as possible. Slowly, Sollux’s face darkened until he was vibrating and spluttering with rage.  
“Oh, _fuck_ you!” he spat out at last.  
Ψ only smirked. “Oh, I _plan_ to! But not with _you_.”  
Dualscar, now carrying the bowls to the sink, made a soft warning noise, pointing a fin at his master. Thankfully, the oven timer went off, providing a much-needed diversion.

On a platter, he piled hot biscuits; this, Ψ let him carry to the table without interference. They were nicely browned; the oven was in fine working order. The goldbloods immediately left off their enmity, refocusing their attentions on the food. Dualscar was forced to snatch a pair of biscuits from midair as they floated by.  
“No solids tonight, I said! Tomorrow night, maybe,” he said, as Ψ’s ears drooped. Sollux attempted what might’ve been a mean laugh, only to choke on a too-large bite. Only Eridan’s quick slap-aside saved the table from being showered in half-chewed crumbs. _Lord, these boys._

The boys both seemed disposed to linger after lunch, possibly from a lack of plans for the night. Dualscar began to despair of their capacity for self-entertainment, aside from the obvious wrestling matches. Did they have no interests in common?  
Outside, the storm had struck in earnest. No suitable weather for flying, this. Although… Dualscar longed to simply walk out on the deck to feel the rain on his face, the pull of the wind, so wild and free – he didn’t want to get his new coat wet, but he could take it off and just let the rain soak through his shirt - _Not like you have so many clothes you can afford to go getting them wet on a lark._ But still, to be able to feel a storm on his skin again - _There’ll be other chances_ , he told himself. _For now, bide._

“It looks like it’ll keep raining a while,” he said. “Why don’t you two play a game” (Eridan winced minutely, Sollux scowled more deeply) “or watch a movie or something?”  
“There’s s’pos’ta be a break later tonight,” Eridan offered. “Wwe probably got time for a movvie, though.” He looked unsurely at Sollux, as though the proposal hinged on his approval. When no objection seemed imminent, he turned the same look on Dualscar as he gathered the dishes. “You wwanna wwatch wwith us?”

“Certainly we’ll come,” Dualscar agreed. He cast a glance over at Ψ, which quickly turned into a glare; Ψ flinched, and meekly withdrew the hand that had been inching towards the biscuits. Dualscar sighed. “Your appetite is heartening, but I want you to stick to the broth, for now.” He ladled out another mugful, making sure to catch some of the floating spices. “Here. Take this and go…help get the movie set up, I guess. I’ll be along once the dishes are done.”

Eridan had seemed surprised at Ψ’s proposed inclusion, and accepted his presence with great suspicion, frequently glancing over his shoulder as if to make sure Ψ was following properly and not making trouble. Sollux had ducked out early, probably planning to steal the best seat. Shrugging, Dualscar put the dishes in the sink to soak while he bottled up the soup.

Some ten minutes later, the cleanup complete, he carried up a cup of fruit juice to share with Ψ, and arrived in the middle of what was (judging by Ψ’s expression as he sipped his broth) a most amusing argument. The screen was showing the videoplayer’s default menu; some five or six movies, still in their cases, were scattered over the sofa and coffee table. The boys were trying to tug another case out of each other’s hands.  
“Givve it _here_ , I said-”  
“I’m not watching thith trash _again_ -”

Dualscar sighed loudly, somewhat regretting his earlier suggestion. This at least put a stop to the fight, as they both lowered the case to look at him. Well, he had their attention; now, what to do with it?  
“Haven’t you got any interests in common?” he prompted. It wouldn’t bode well for their relationship if they _hadn’t_. _How did they even meet?_

“Man, I jutht wanna watch thtuff ekthplode!” Sollux complained. Eridan managed at last to yank the movie out of his hands.  
“Wwhat about that neww one wwith all the exploding cars, then?”  
“That whole therieth thuckth and you know it.”  
They glared at each other, until Eridan turned aside to set the movie on the table with the others. A thought seemed to strike him.  
“Howw about that one wwhere he drives the car up a cliff, though?”  
Sollux hesitated, evidently wanting a fight and not finding one. “Yeah, that one wath pretty okay.”  
“I dunno if there’s explosions, but a lot of stuff catches fire.”  
“I _thaid_ okay! Jutht put it in already.”

The two settled on the sofa, somewhat centered but outside easy punching distance. Dualscar _tsk_ ed internally. Eridan hadn’t left room enough to sit between him and the end of the couch. Should he sit next to Sollux, and be prepared to hold him back? Or would that be showing too much favor to a guest over his master? He made up his mind.

“Eridan, may I sit next to you?”  
“Uh? Sure!” Eridan scooted over, and…yes, that put him back within range of Sollux. _Dammit_.  
Before Dualscar could get properly settled, Ψ draped himself over his back, whining. “I wanna thit here tooooo!” Eridan pouted stubbornly at them, evidently wanting Dualscar’s attention all to himself.  
“There’s room at the other end,” Dualscar offered, smiling. Ψ immediately went to drape himself over his descendent instead, who turned aside to shove him off, and moved over in an ill-concealed attempt to crowd him off the opposite end of the couch. _Success!_ They poffed at each other with the throw pillow from the armrest until Eridan, ignoring them both, started the movie.

It _was_ a decent film; Dualscar had a feeling he might’ve seen it before, but he couldn’t be sure. Ψ seemed mesmerized; he seemed to have forgotten the pillow he was still brandishing like a shield. Quiet prevailed at last, broken by occasional side comments:

“I wwonder if Eq has secret passages in his hive.”  
“Not a chance, he’th too thtraightforward. Betcha VK hath, if anyone really doeth.”  
“Heh. No bet.”

“Has Ara seen this? I think she’d like that scene at the end.”  
“I dunno. Probably; she likes adventure movies.”  
“Wwe should wwatch it together sometime. Wwith her, I mean.”  
“Mmn.”

There was also some occasional scuffling as Sollux kept pinching Eridan, kicking his shins, and so forth, but as Eridan responded in kind to these advances, Dualscar didn’t feel it worth the effort to separate them. Instead, her hauled Ψ off to the bathroom again as soon as the movie ended, leaving the boys to clean up the scattered cases.

A heated wrestling-and-shouting match was underway when they returned; Dualscar facepalmed lightly and tried to figure out what the hell the fuss was about _this_ time. The boys rolled around wildly on the floor; Eridan narrowly missed concussing Sollux on the end table.  
“All I said wwas ‘wwhen are you comin’ ovver again!’”  
“Why the hell should I keep coming all thith way for _your_ thorry ath? It’th _your_ turn to vithit _me_!”

Eridan wound up straddling Sollux's lap, yanking up fistfuls of his shirt, and screeching into his face. " _Damn_ you! I _can't fly!_ "  
He was close to tears, Dualscar noted. Sollux only sniggered. "Tho what? If you're really committed to thith relationship, you'll find a way. Hey, you could ship yourthelf to me via courier!"  
"It's _four fuckin' miles_ to your place from the nearest depot!" wailed Eridan.  
"You can walk," Sollux gloated.

Dualscar cut in before Eridan could counter with _I ain't wwalkin' that for **you!**_ "How about this? You'd walk that far to his place if _he'd_ walk down to meet you, and then walk back with you. Maybe get your auspistice to make sure he doesn't cheat."  
This had the desired effect of cutting off both Eridan's whining and Sollux's teasing, reducing one to thoughtful silence and the other to grumbles.  
"Not that that’s a legitimate means of travel," Dualscar filled in to the ensuing near-silence, "but Sollux has a point; there _is_ a workaround, almost always, and you just have to find one that's acceptable. Remember, it has to be acceptable to _both_ of you."

Sollux was actively sulking, now. Dualscar turned to face him directly before he could resume his campaign of petty mischief against Eridan's person. "Wouldn't you agree that it would be a lot less hassle, at least until we find a better system, for you to fly yourself out here on a regular basis?"  
"Well, I’m sure ath hell not gonna _walk_ it," he groused. "And it'th not like he'th got any good way _off_ thith godforthaken rock, to meet me thomewhere _thivilithed._ Tho I gueth vithitth are up to me until he deignth to move."  
"You an' Ara," Eridan offered, subdued but no longer tearful.  
Sollux flicked his nose. "You know how lucky you are, having quadranted _two_ people who can get you outta here? AA detherveth better than _you._ "  
"Mmm." Eridan seemed to accept that without protest. "I wwon't bother addin' that she deserves better'n _you_ , too, since you've told her that plenty a' times yourself."  
_She's quite the woman, all right_ , thought Dualscar privately. _And a damned sight more mature than either of these two. Makes one wonder whether she's just putting up with them for her own amusement, or what._

There might be a decent level of entertainment in watching their antics, he supposed. Especially if you could direct them! _Now appearing on this stage: Two Bumbling Fools in Hate! Also featuring the side act, Their Ancestors! All the quadrant drama one hive can fit! Now let's have a round of applause for our ringmaster, Miss Megidooooo!_  
_(raaahhhhhh)_

Dualscar shook the imaginary crowd noise from his head as Ψ floated over, looking irritated. _The weather_ , Dualscar realized. _He feels trapped by the rain._ Truth be told, they were probably all going a little stir-crazy from being cooped up together half the night. _Time to break up the party. But first -_ “Sollux, may I have a word with you?”

He got a startled stare, followed by a wary nod. 

“Eridan is your first kismesis, yes?” That much was obvious.  
Sollux nodded again, still wary. “Yeah…”  
“Were you planning to keep him, or are you actively trying to get rid of him?”  
The boy pulled back, looking concerned. Eridan made a strangled noise, which Dualscar chose not to heed.  
“You can be honest,” Dualscar prompted. Then a thought struck him. “Ah, no. You wouldn’t bother trying to make him leave you,” he mused. “You’d just tell him to fuck off if you weren’t interested. So you _are_ black for him; you just don’t know what you’re doing.”

Sollux growled and fizzed in the manner of an angry psionic preparing his sparks; Dualscar regarded this with all the attention due the hissing of a very small, nonvenomous snake. “Now look. It’s obvious you don’t know the first thing about blackrom, so I thought I’d give you some advice: You don’t better _yourself_ by tearing down your rival, but by building him _up_.”

He got a perplexed look from Sollux, an annoyed one from Eridan, and a facepalm from Ψ, who was snickering silently in the background. Hurriedly, he continued. “First off, you shouldn’t be relying on physical challenges for the bulk of your interaction. You’ve got an obvious advantage of psionics; without them, he has an obvious advantage of muscles. You won’t get a fair fight that way, so at least one of you is bound to wind up unsatisfied on a regular basis. Instead, you need to find something you’re both decent at, and compete that way.” He threw up his arms. “If you dabble in different things, then choose something you’re both _lousy_ at, but interested in, and compete to _improve!_ The driving principle of blackrom is mutual defiance: not the easygoing ‘hey, do this for me’ compliance of redrom, but rather a goading ‘I bet you can’t do this.’ Moreover, you should both be _enjoying_ your rivalry – this is _not a hard concept to grasp!_ If you make people unhappy, they will _not stick around_.”

Dualscar jabbed a finger at Sollux. “Remember, your job isn’t _hurting_ him, it’s making him _hate_ you! And all right, pain might be a quick and dirty way to drive someone mad, but are you sure he doesn’t _like_ it? Some people do! He doesn’t seem to be enjoying it, right? But _there’s_ your danger, because if he doesn’t _enjoy_ what you do as his kismesis, then why should he keep you? Surely he could find someone else who’d treat him with _respect_ , and hate him just as much!”

“But,” Sollux began. Dualscar was having none of it.  
“You listen here! Pain’s _unoriginal_. It means you haven’t got any better ideas. If you really can’t think of anything he’d _actually_ hate, then you don’t know him well enough to be so close. So lay off the biting. It’s not sexy, it’s just bullying. If that’s the best you can do, you’re unfit for him.” He grinned craftily, remembering: the “golden rule.” “Or perhaps…” Dualscar speculated, glancing slyly at Sollux, “you’ve been trying to inspire him to retaliate, and what you _really_ want is your _own_ ears bitten?”

Sollux flushed and growled, puffing up angrily, to Dualscar’s satisfaction. It looked like he would indeed rise admirably to the implied challenge. Or…ignore it totally, and do whatever the hell he wanted. That was _also_ a distinct possibility.

Sure enough, Sollux was not pleased; whether he was more upset over being lectured or the implication that he was _not_ , in fact, a genius at romance was hard to say.  
“Why the _hell_ should I lithten to _you_? You’re on _hith_ thide, anyway –”  
“Oh, for fuck’th _thake_ , Little Me,” said Ψ, reaching over to grab Sollux by the ear, “you’re theriouthly going to ignore the _fish_ who hath fucked, like, a _million fish_ , when he’th telling you _how to fuck a fish?!_ He’th giving you thith advithe for free, you know!”  
Sollux squawked and thrashed, and then shrieked in startled pain as Ψ started dragging him across the room. Tiny tears of pain rimmed his eyes. Dualscar, somewhat perplexed, sidled up to a shocked-looking Eridan and spoke quietly. 

“He’s never been pulled around by the ear before?”  
“Probably not,” Eridan agreed, captivated by the proceedings. “His lusus was too big to fit inside, so I’m sure it didn’t have small enough fingers to grab him like that.”  
Dualscar joined him in regarding the twins with fond fascination. After a moment, he leaned over and murmured conspiratorially, “See, he _does_ have sensitive ears. Just like” _mine_ “Ψ.”  
Eventually, Ψ loosed his hold enough for Sollux to wriggle free. The boy backed off a few steps before turning on him, ready to launch another futile tirade.

Right, time to abscond. Dualscar grabbed ahold of Ψ’s arm. “May I show Ψ around the ship?” He could… _probably_ trust the boys not to beat each other up any more tonight?  
Eridan flapped a hand at them, doubtless just wanting a break from the drama. “Go ahead.”

They started in the lowest hold – mostly storage, although Ψ did manage to wander into one embarrassing closet of cleaning supplies and nearly got brained by a falling mop - and worked their way upward. When they reached the laundry room, Dualscar was suddenly reminded of Ψ’s flight suit, still balled up in a corner of the bathroom. He tromped bravely back up the stairs to Eridan’s room, Ψ floating curiously behind him. Steeling himself for whatever lay beyond, he rapped on the door.

“Eridan?”  
“C’mon in!”

He entered. They were…trolling each other from opposite sides of the room, it seemed. Okay.  
“I need to run some laundry,” Dualscar offered. “Do you have anything that you want washed while I’m at it?”  
Evidently he did; Dualscar watched with faint amusement and Sollux jeered as Eridan scampered around the room, first pulling out a half-full hamper and then piling things from all corners of the room on it until it was overflowing: scarves, socks, a couple of stained shirts, a forgotten damp towel that smelled like it might be starting to mildew. Some of the items, Dualscar thought, had probably had no more strenuous use than to be tried on, taken off, and thrown on the floor since their last washing. But who was he to judge? His master wanted them washed, so they’d get washed. _I guess this counts as making a start on the cleaning project._ The basket floated helpfully back down the stairs behind him, trailed by Ψ; the suit was retrieved from the bathroom as they passed.

Almost immediately after starting to sort the clothes, Dualscar despaired of the more delicate items and esoteric fabrics, not to speak of the horribly worn flight suit, but decided to throw them all in on the “gentle” cycle and hope for the best. None of it was silk or wool, so far as he could tell; he could only trust that his master wouldn’t have given him anything to launder that couldn’t go through the machine. _I hope he’s that forethoughtful, at least._ While the first load ran, they continued their tour. By the time they reached the more familiar levels of the ship, Ψ had draped himself heavily across Dualscar’s back. _Amorous, or just tired?_

Sollux zoomed out into the hall as they came up the last set of stairs, tossing a quick “bye” in their general direction when he saw them. Dualscar called “Wait!” after him, and then realized the rain had stopped. Was the sun up by now, behind the clouds? Could he get home safely? Was there any _legitimate_ reason he could be made to stay longer to stave off Eridan’s inevitable loneliness and jealousy?

“Will you stay for dinner?” Dualscar inquired, as prettily as he knew how. _Please?_ Sollux ground his teeth, obviously eager to leave, be on the move, get going. _Not the type to stick around, these psionics._ “At least a snack? I don’t want you to fly home with an empty belly.”  
Sollux appeared to consider this for a moment, then zipped down the stairs. Moments later, he reappeared with an armful of biscuits; Ψ woke from his doze and screeched. Sollux kicked away his grabbing arms. “Relakth, dumbath, I left like half a plateful for you!”

That seemed to be all he could offer, for the moment. “Well.” Dualscar gave Sollux a fond smile. “Safe journey, then.”  
He watched until the door to the deck closed behind the boy before going to consult with Eridan on dinner plans; at least the meal wouldn’t need to be impressively fancy for the sake of their guest.  
Dualscar left Ψ upstairs with Eridan while he went down to start dinner marinating; he switched the laundry to the dryer on the way back up. When he rejoined them, Ψ was floating quietly in a corner by the door, and Eridan had his fins stretched out wide, sneaking occasional panicked glances at him.  
“He’s been that way almost since you left,” whispered Eridan, obviously disturbed. “Just floated on up without a word and hasn’t moved. It’s so weird. He’s just floatin’ there and _starin’_.”  
Dualscar snorted. “No, he isn’t. He _can’t_ be. He’s _asleep_.” He went over and tugged gently on one of Ψ’s feet, about all he could reach. “Come down, please.”  
With mechanical smoothness, Ψ lowered and bent his body until his head was about level with Dualscar’s; his hands were extended behind him as if trapped, and Dualscar _tsk_ ed, patting the offered face lightly. “C’mon, wake up for me, Ψ? Just for a little bit, come and eat, please?”  
Eridan slumped, looking away, as Ψ came around, blinking. His arms lowered and his posture straightened until he was upright once more. Finally, his feet touched down on the floor; he turned around as if unsure of his surroundings. Dualscar picked up one limply-hanging metal hand, tugging Ψ toward the door. “Come help me with dinner, hmm? You’re bothering Eridan.”

Shortly afterward, as Dualscar was setting a plate in front of Eridan, discord arose yet again; as he turned away, Ψ, now more awake, evidently did a split-second comparison with his own promised bowl of soup and made a grab for Eridan’s baked fish. The boy screeched, attempting to simultaneously shield the plate with his body and hold onto it with both hands.  
“Ψ! _Ψ!_ Let go! You’ll have your soup in a minute, it’s still heating up!” It was warm enough to drink already, but his master was first to be served.  
“I’m not waiting for _him_ to eat, Dee!” Ψ whined. “I want it now! He shouldn’t get to have his first!”  
With a sinking feeling, Dualscar realized Ψ was right; they were both free trolls, and Ψ was probably the most powerful person on the planet. That might put them on the same footing, socially? However, even when Dualscar brought over Ψ’s bowl of mostly-broth-with-some-mushy-bits, Eridan still wouldn’t take a bite. “I’m waiting for you,” he said stubbornly. Dualscar was flummoxed, and briefly flattered; he retrieved his waiting plate from the counter, and pondered while they ate.

So. Ψ wouldn’t wait for Eridan, but he _would_ wait for Dualscar (probably, assuming they were served around the same time.) Dualscar would’ve preferred for Eridan to eat first, but Eridan refused to start without him, so to prevent _Ψ_ from starting before his master did, they’d all have to eat together.  
_What the hell is with this hierarchy? It’s not a proper pyramid, it’s not even a line; more like a Möbius strip._ There wasn’t any clear pecking order to follow in this case, but in _any_ case there wasn’t anyone around to see it but them. Dualscar gave in.

After dinner, Eridan seemed again loath to leave him alone with Ψ, so Dualscar narrated at him, an endless somewhat-censored stream-of-consciousness chattering, while he cleared and washed dishes and Ψ pouted in the direction of the now securely-wrapped leftover biscuits.  
“I thought, when I’m done here, I’d take Ψ to that sitting room down the hall from your room – we’ll leave the door open, of course.” For propriety’s sake, although cuddles were _probably_ allowable. _And maybe some smooches too?_ “I want to get off my feet for a while, maybe read a book or something, and see if I can get Ψ to fall asleep without floating away. Unless you have something else that needs doing tonight?”  
Eridan shook his head wistfully.

To Dualscar’s great surprise, no sooner had he settled Ψ beside him on the sofa in the sitting room, than Eridan appeared at the door; not that surveillance was a surprise, but he was carrying his husktop as if he meant to join them! _How can he be so lonely? He had a guest only a few hours ago! Perhaps Ψ’s making him jealous already._ Sure enough, Eridan crossed self-consciously to the desk on the opposite side of the room and plugged in, obviously planning to stay. It was an inefficient setup for monitoring, though, since he was facing a wall and would have to crane his neck to see them. With his head against Dualscar’s chest, Ψ murmured uneasily, although it didn’t seem to be about their chaperone. Crooning soft reassurance, Dualscar lowered Ψ’s head to his lap (well, half a lap, really, with his belly so round.)

The sofa faced an ornamental false fireplace; Dualscar turned the heater on, for Ψ’s sake. Briefly, he’d considered flipping the furniture around, so they wouldn’t seem to be turning their backs on Eridan, but Ψ had ducked his head behind Dualscar’s shoulder when the boy had come in, so he allowed the concealing sofa back to remain between them. Instead, he turned himself to look over it, out into the room. Occasionally, Eridan would glance back and meet his eyes.  
Conveniently, the sofa was much longer than the desk; sitting at one end of it gave Dualscar an _excellent_ view of the screen over Eridan’s shoulder.

Not that there was much to see at the moment; the usual assortment of chat windows were open, but idle. Eridan checked the time on his husktop, then leaned back to corroborate it with the time on the wall clock, then chewed on his nails for a bit before launching into writing a massive essay without sending it. He seemed to be trying to relay the entire night’s events to someone whom he didn’t want to wake, but very much wanted to talk to. Dualscar huffed a soft laugh to himself: _timezones._ Ψ turned over restlessly.

After a while, another window pinged; yellow text. Sollux had reached…not home, but a friend’s hive for the day. Good. _I hope he wasn’t flying in the rain – or if he was, they know how to warm him back up._ Well, it mightn’t be _that_ sort of friend. On his lap, Ψ squirmed, then suddenly pushed himself upright in a panic. 

“I can’t _do_ it, Dee,” he protested. “I’m thideways and the room lookth all wrong.”  
Dualscar calmed him with gentle neck-petting. “Shh, it’s all right. How about if I lie down next to you for a little bit? You can orient to me, instead of the room, and it won’t confuse your balance so much.”

Eridan looked around at them; not unexpected. “Is that yellow text from Sollux?” asked Dualscar, nodding at the screen as a distraction. Likely; how many goldbloods would a seadweller know?  
“Uhm! Yeah.”  
There was some clicking of keys as Dualscar slid down on the sofa until his head was on one armrest. He guided Ψ’s head to his chest; his bulk forced most of Ψ’s body to hang off the side of the sofa, floating in midair, but one thing at a time. _Keep talking; he’ll be less suspicious._ “Did he get home safe, or was he struck by lightning and decided to haunt your computer?”  
Eridan snorted, sounding amused. “He’s ovver at Ara’s.”  
Ah. _That_ kind of friend. _She’ll take good care of him, no worries._ That reminded him. “That’s good. Would you please ask your auspistice to find a mutually convenient time when I may meet with all three of you together?”  
“Wwhat about?” Eridan sounded hesitant.  
_I don’t like the way Sollux has been treating you._ “Biology.”  
That seemed to satisfy him. “Howw’s next wweek?” he asked a few minutes of typing later. “They’re both gonna be comin’ ovver here at some point anywway, so wwe can just combine vvisits.”  
“Fine, fine.” Not like he had other plans. Beside him, Ψ had relaxed a bit, but was hugging him clingily. Dualscar petted his back. “Want some juice?” he offered, realizing moments too late that Eridan might take him up on the offer even if Ψ didn’t.

“Nnn,” said Ψ, still fretful, “Not water neither,” as Dualscar reached for the mug beside the sofa.  
“What, then? What’s wrong?” asked Dualscar lightly. He curled up as far as he was able to press a kiss to Ψ’s brow.  
“Outthide,” said Ψ, simply.  
_He wants to go out?_ Dualscar directed his attention to the nearest porthole-window.  
_plip_  
_thup_  
_plunk_  
Oh. It was raining again.

“You need a distraction, huh? Since you can’t go out right now?” _It’s obvious you do; what do you want me to do?_  
“Thing for me?” Ψ suggested. Dualscar sat up slowly, shifting Ψ ‘s head back to his thigh, and launched into one of his usual numbers, a familiar ballad of sea and sky, but Ψ remained restless. _Of course, air and water; the weather’s wrong for that to be helpful._ He switched to a welcoming song of hearth and home instead, and Ψ relaxed, sprawling awkwardly over his lap.  
Eridan was facing his screen, still, but with both fins pointed at them, listening hard. _Never heard much live music, livin’ way out here, I bet._  
_Poor thing._

Ψ’s fingers rubbed at Dualscar’s leg, less agitated but still restless. Ah, another thing they’d forgotten. Dualscar tapped a finger twice on one metal forearm, causing Ψ to blink up at him, then jerked his thumb at the back of the couch, in Eridan’s direction.  
“Oh yeah.” Ψ shifted so he was kneeling on the couch and flopping over the back, and raised his voice. “Hey, kid! Little Dee! _Fishfathe the thecond!_ ”  
_”WWHAT?!”_ Eridan yelled, turning around.  
Ψ held up an arm in explanation. “When’m I thuppothed to be getting the new model of thethe? ‘Cauthe the prototypeth can’t feel worth _shit._ ”  
“Oh.” Eridan turned away, mollified but still looking prickly. “I’ll find out.”  
He opened a new chat window, shaking his head. “That guy’s frustrating to deal wwith, though.”  
Dark blue text answered him; Eridan scoffed his way through the ensuing conversation, closing the window immediately afterwards. He spun around to face the sofa, waving a hand at the screen. “He apologizes STRONGLY and profusely, but they wwon’t be ready tomorroww night. Probably the next night, he said. He’ll confirm at this time tomorroww.”  
“Apology acthepted,” said Ψ, with sly grace.  
“Oh, fuck you too,” Eridan muttered darkly, scowling at him.

In response Ψ offered him one shiny, upraised middle finger. Suddenly, he paused, holding his hand in front of his face as it split into a huge grin. He then flipped Eridan off vigorously with both hands, pumping them wildly up and down, wearing an _oh my god this is so awesome_ expression. The boy turned away, rolling his eyes disgustedly; Dualscar pulled Ψ back into his lap before he could provoke an incident.

Dualscar settled himself comfortably, stroking Ψ’s hair as he tried to look relaxed, and waited for the atmosphere of the room to cool. Eridan opened another chat window and began typing away. After a few minutes of this, Dualscar cleared his throat, nerves twanging. “Eridan? I don’t think Ψ ought to sleep without sopor.” He hoped his master either couldn’t hear the anxiety in his voice, or would attribute it to concern for Ψ. “Is it all right if he sleeps with me?”

Ψ’s face slowly stretched into a ridiculous grin; Dualscar tapped a warning finger across his lips. _Shh._ He shook with silent giggles as Dualscar waited patiently, finally getting a distracted, “Um! Sure!” from his master. To Dualscar’s surprise, this was followed by, “I’ll get him his owwn stuff, if he’s staying.”

“Oh! Would you?” Shifting Ψ’s head off his lap and onto a cushion, Dualscar got up and approached his master. “And yes, for a while I think. At least until the laying,” _oh please please PLEASE_. He laughed lightly. “Actually, I’ll probably need him more right after. I’ll be sore and won’t want to move!” He settled at Eridan’s side on a sofa pillow; Eridan looked grateful, and ran a hand through Dualscar’s hair. _Hmm, nice._ He made a pleased murmur at the attention, shutting his eyes and leaning into it.  
The hand lingered on his head, and he made a point to purr audibly. _See, I still seek your affection. I’m not trying to replace you._ Dualscar flapped his fins in a slow rhythm, attempting to broadcast reassurance.

“Can he carry you around, then?”  
Dualscar blinked out of his brief petting-induced stupor. Ψ’s _capacity_ was somehow in doubt? “Um, yes,” he filled in while his brain scrabbled madly for sense. “More easily than I could carry _him_ , probably. Not that I couldn’t, but he’s his weight again in metal at the moment, and I wouldn’t want to injure myself trying right now.” Did Eridan just not _trust_ flyers? He shook himself lightly, careful of the hand near his horns. Back on topic.

“I’ll need some more groceries to diversify his diet,” he began. “You or I might think it plenty of variety if I cook fifty kinds of fish fifty different ways, but he’d complain that it was all the same meal after only a few nights. He’ll want…well, I’d like to feed him up a bit, so I want food that’ll tempt him. More sweets and starches, and he’ll be drawn to fatty, salty things as well. You don’t need to buy junk food, though; I can work with the staples we’ve got, for the most part. But we’ll need more of them. Some kind of land meat as well, like poultry. More potatoes and fruit, I think, and a bigger variety of vegetables. Mmf,” he knelt up, examining the shopping site on the screen, “Will you show me what produce is on sale? That’ll be whatever’s in season now. If I’d known what time of year it was, I’d have ordered differently before.”  
They settled on a bushel or so of tart apples, good for eating and cooking, a half-bushel of pears, for variety, some cabbages, and other things Dualscar thought would keep.

“And if you would indulge me a little further –” How far, exactly, could he push this? “Some fancy sweeteners would be a good choice for treats and bribery.” _Assuming Ψ sticks around._ He took a deep breath. “I could use a pound or two of cooking honey, if it’s not too expensive. And if you’d like to be properly spoiled yourself, you could get me a jug of tree-sap syrup. Make sure it doesn’t say ‘flavored,’ though. You want the _real_ stuff; you can tell by the price.”  
“Wwoww,” commented Eridan, flattening his fins in surprise a moment later. “You wweren’t _kidding._ Wwell, I can certainly afford it. Anythin’ else?”  
“Another two or three dozen eggs for protein. Oh, what else – nuts! Nut butter. Any kind will do. It’s sweet and greasy and I think he’ll eat it right up.” He turned half around. “Ψ, do you like nuts?”  
“Lived with ‘em for _thweepth!_ ” confirmed Ψ. He deliberated in earnest. “I like mine…toathted, I think. That thoundth right.”  
“Oh, yeah, they used to sell them all over the place in those paper cones,” Dualscar recalled. “Sugar glazed or spiced – _mmm_. They smelled so _good_ , you could hardly resist.” He lost himself in nostalgia, remembering bustling city markets and summertime fairs. 

“So d’you wwant nuts or nut butter or both?” Eridan asked. Dualscar turned back to him with a smile.  
“Get a medium-sized jar of nut butter – a pound or two of whatever’s the best price – and check for nuts in the baking section,” he said. “They don’t need to be pretty; they can be in bits and pieces, and they should be cheaper that way.”  
That seemed to set them up well for groceries (again); Eridan added another recuperacoon and sopor to their order, evidently not wanting to forget them, then turned to Dualscar. “Does he need anythin’ else right away?”

“He’ll need new clothes – well, more clothes anyway – something warmer for winter,” Dualscar proposed. “Multiple layers; he’ll feel the cold more than we do. And anyhow he needs _something_ to wear while I do laundry.”  
Eridan gestured to his throat. “That wwhy he’s wwearin’ a binder clip?”  
Dualscar blushed, fins clamping tight to the sides of his head. “Er. Yes. Well,” he rallied, “My shirt’s far too wide for him, of course, but his clothes needed washing, and I couldn’t very well leave him in a towel all night! I’m certain it would have slipped off, accidentally on purpose.” Twin glances were turned toward the sofa at the sound of Ψ’s dirty snicker from behind it. A moment later, they shifted back to facing the screen in a mutual attitude of _just ignore him_. For now, at least.

“So. Shirts – probably all long-sleeved for now, unless you’re expecting a significant number of hot days before the cold hits.” He wondered if Ψ would mind having his prosthetics covered up. “And at least one good warm sweater. I don’t know if he’ll need a coat; we can figure that out later.” He was suddenly less sure. “Should he have gloves? For that matter, does he need shoes? Socks?” He shook his head. “We’ll find out when he gets his prosthetics replaced, I guess.”  
He glanced at the screen; Eridan had opened a few windows and seemed to be browsing through cheaper styles of mass-produced clothing.

“Howw’s this?” he asked, jabbing a finger at the screen. “I’vve wworn this kind before, they’re real soft an’ pretty wwarm.”  
“Looks fine to me,” Dualscar agreed readily. “Can you size it up?”  
Eridan tried, frowned, switched off the autofill settings, tried again, and grew increasingly annoyed. “It looks like I can only go up or dowwn a little from my last order.”  
They regarded the screen together, flummoxed. “Maybe…it’s to prevvent fraud?” Eridan suggested. “So someone can’t pose as me and order clothes for themself?”  
Dualscar noticed something. “Oh! It’s still showing your sign. Can you…change that?” A smile crept across his face. “Maybe…change it to Sollux’s sign? I bet they’d let you order hilariously outsized clothing for your kismesis.”

This proved a workable solution; while Eridan fiddled with saving the new settings as a secondary default, Dualscar realized they’d need to actually _measure_ Ψ, and retrieved from the desk in Eridan’s room a ruler and a reel of…ribbon, for some reason. Well, not everyone collected string. Ψ’s shoulders, waist and hips were predictably similar in dimensions, but Dualscar fussed over the length of his arms and legs; would the new prosthetics match the old ones exactly, or would the builder have thought better of it and reduced them to more realistic proportions? Better to order long, he decided, and cuff them if needed. He flopped back on his pillow, handing off the sheet of measurements to be input.

“Pants will present a problem,” Dualscar informed Eridan, after they’d added a few shirts and an acceptable sweater to their virtual basket. “He can’t stand belts, and he’s got no hips to speak of. Normal styles would just slip right off him.”  
Behind them, Ψ stirred out of a drowse. “No underwear!” he insisted. “I’ve never worn it and I’m not thtarting now!”  
“Mm-hm,” called Dualscar indulgently, and then to Eridan, “You see the problem, then.”  
“More like, I nevver _wwant_ to see it,” Eridan groused, browsing intently through the selection of pants. He hovered the cursor over one potential solution. “Wwhat about ovveralls?”  
“Mmm.” Dualscar examined the picture closely, then shook his head. “He wouldn’t like the shoulder straps.” He pointed to another item. “I think we’ll have to go with elastic waists after all. Unless Kanaya has a better idea?” he added hopefully. “I did mention the problem to her, although I doubt she’s given it much thought since then.”

His bent legs had fallen asleep; he tried to shift them discreetly to bring the feeling back, which worked to the extent that they started hurting again. “Ow.”  
Ψ abruptly poked his head over the top of the sofa at that, making a displeased noise. “You need a hand up?” asked Eridan nervously, as Dualscar slowly shoved himself to his feet, rubbing his legs.

“Mmf. I’m fine. Thanks. Just – my knees aren’t what they used to be,” he admitted. “Think I’ll sit on the sofa awhile to stretch my legs back out.” He began to shuffle off with his pillow.  
“Wwell, all right,” Eridan said warily, “but you givve a shout if he bothers you, all right? And I’ll…”  
“You’ll _what?_ ” put in Ψ, with vicious glee. Well, he had a point.

Eridan flared his fins, challenging. “I’ll – I’ll pitch a fit, is wwhat,” he declared finally. “Screechin’ an’ flailin’ an’ the wwhole wworks. Sol finds it distracting, at the vvery least.”  
Ψ sneered; Dualscar patted his head as he passed the corner of the sofa. “Let him be, Ψ,” he said wearily. “He’s not hurting you, he’s not hurting me, and I _certainly_ hope you don’t intend to hurt _him_.”  
“What if he hurtth _himthelf,_ though?” Ψ bantered curiously.  
Dualscar heaved a sigh as he flumped back down on the sofa. “Then he’ll hurt your ears with his wailing, and my schedule with patching him up. We’ll manage.”

From far below, there was a faint harsh buzzing sound. “The laundry,” Dualscar acknowledged, rubbing a hand over his face. He drew one long, patient breath before heaving himself back up. “Might as well do that before I get properly settled.”  
With a sort of questioning buzz of his own, Ψ made as if to get up and follow; Dualscar pointed imperiously at the sofa. “ _You_ stay here. Just rest.” Across the room, Eridan tensed. Dualscar managed to keep from rolling his eyes. “Don’t kill each other before I get back. Is that too much to ask?” He left before either of them could answer him. 

Alone in the laundry room, Dualscar pondered their unusual situation still further. It felt a bit strange, he mused, that _no one_ had suggested Ψ as an alternative means of transport for Eridan. Although, it _was_ understandable that Sollux wouldn’t have brought it up...did it just not occur to Eridan to say, _hey, so long as you’re stayin’ here, how about you pull your wweight by flyin’ me around?_ Maybe...maybe he’d thought Ψ’s sickness, a temporary weakness, extended to his psionics as well?

 _He doesn’t trust Ψ,_ Dualscar realized, remembering how Eridan had bristled when Ψ got too close to either of them. _Not with me, and definitely not with himself. Probably thinks he’ll wind up as a nasty splotch on the ground somewhere, or parked on an inconvenient mountaintop if Ψ’s in a good mood._  
He shook his head. If Eridan only knew how easy it was to order Ψ around...  
It’d be dangerous for both of them, he decided. He’d have to make a point of _not_ demonstrating. 

Well, he certainly wasn’t going to make the offer on Ψ’s behalf; Ψ was free, now, after being bound to another seadweller’s whims for countless ages, and deserved the chance to make his own choices. Ψ himself was unlikely to suggest it unless he got something of far greater value; Eridan would be bargaining from a very weak position because, really, what did he have to offer?

 _He has me,_ Dualscar reasoned. _A place to stay and food to eat,_ and…  
...Ψ didn’t need _any_ of that. He was strong and clever and charming enough to make his own way in the world, to have it all with no strings attached, for just a wink and a smile and a few sweet words.

 _He’ll stay a little while, at least. I’ll feed him up, help him heal._  
And then, when he was well…what? He’d be grateful? Feel obligated somehow, after all he’d been through, to put up with yet _another_ demanding seadweller? A _pair_ of them?  
_…Do I honestly believe that I can make him love me? Enough so that he’ll stay?_  
No. Not really. Ψ wasn’t the type to tangle himself up in long-term relationships, or anything more serious than occasional one-day stands. He’d told Dualscar those tales himself, regaling him proudly.  
_I’m so stupid._  
Dualscar rubbed his eyes onto Ψ’s clean suit until they stopped prickling.

_I can’t just say, “oh, I’ll KEEP him.” He’s not a **thing** anymore. They made him into a person again, so I guess they want him to be a person._

_And what about me?_ He looked himself over, and smoothed down his shirt. _They dressed me functional rather than decorative. Am I meant to be a person, too, instead of a slave? The person I was, or just a more respectable sort of underling?_ He had a better idea of what Eridan – his master – needed from him now, but how to make him _accept_ it? _I wonder how used he is to being lonely? How long ago did he lose his lusus? And what did – does – he intend for me, that he’s not telling?_

Lost in thought, he made his way back up the stairs.  
_I hope he’ll take what I can give him, in the meantime. Or maybe he’ll finally demand something else. Maybe having Ψ around will make him feel properly possessive of me._

On his return they were both still much as he’d left them: Eridan sitting stiffly, fins flared in an ill-concealed attempt to keep tabs on Ψ without turning around and staring, and Ψ flopped awkwardly across the couch.  
“Will you fetch up the basket, Ψ?” Dualscar asked him, sinking gratefully into the cushions with a fresh cup of water. “I left it in front of the washer.” Ψ nodded, and turned toward the door. Moments later, Eridan started to turn around curiously, and startled visibly as the laundry basket sailed by the door, then paused in midair.  
“Where d’you want it, then?”  
“Uh. I think your suit’s on top, but bring it here first.” The basket bobbed up to him obligingly; Dualscar removed Ψ’s rags and patted the rim. “Set that back in Eridan’s room, if you please.”  
“Can’t. It’th shut.”  
“Well, put this on the table in our room, at least. I think I left the door open a crack.” The suit took off.  
Eridan came over to claim the basket, but when he tugged experimentally on the rim, Ψ released it suddenly, and it nearly hit his foot; he glared daggers at Ψ’s easy smirk, and Dualscar leaned over to whap Ψ’s shoulder. “Stop that. Be nice.”  
“He’th young and thtrong, Dee. And if he can’t carry hith own clotheth, then why doeth he have tho many of them?”  
Dualscar growled a sigh, giving Ψ a little shake, but declined to get up once more to offer Eridan his assistance. Ψ had a point, and the hamper was only half-full. “Just leave it out in the hall when you’re done putting those away, and I’ll put the rest of the clean ones in once they’re folded.” Which would probably be the next night, at this rate; things took _forever_ to dry in damp weather at sea.

A little while later, exhaustion had set in to the point where Dualscar had to remind himself that he _really_ ought to use his recuperacoon, now that he had one, rather than fall asleep on a sofa again. He bid Eridan good day and hauled Ψ out with him for one last stop in the bathroom before they stripped down and slipped into the slime; Dualscar left his coat lovingly folded and lying atop the box on the table. He’d have to get some kind of hanger or hook for it.

Dualscar turned up the heater on the recuperacoon so Ψ wouldn’t have to burn his precious calories to keep warm. The closeness was nice, but the silence was deafening; they were both too tired to do much of anything, Dualscar thought, so why did he feel the urge to babble nervously?  
“Do you know, it’s fall instead of winter?”  
Ψ chuckled. “Yeah, I notithed. Not that I wath keeping track of theathonth, but I _wath_ looking forward to the muthic at the end-of-thweep party thoon. Wouldn’t put it patht her to have added another five minutes to the night whenever she needed to finish thomething.”  
“It just makes me wonder: how long were we gone, exactly?” Ψ hugged him, snuggling up against his back. “I know, I know, ‘that way, madness lies,’ and all that. It’s been a _while_. I lost track, is all.”

Ψ obviously had other concerns on his mind. “I can’t _wait_ to get my new handth,” said Ψ in an excited whisper, eyes glowing dimly. “Ath thoon ath I can feel properly, I’m gonna grope you allllll over!”  
“Mmm,” Dualscar agreed, nuzzling him with eyes closed to slits. “I’ll hold you to that. Now settle down; you need sleep and so do I. Let me know if something doesn’t feel right, and I’ll help sort you out.”  
Ψ was silent a minute, then rolled toward him, restive. “It doethn’t feel right, thleeping thidewayth.”  
Dualscar rubbed Ψ’s shoulder, then draped an arm across his back. “I’m sorry, sweetness. Being horizontal for so long must seem unusual to you. But I think the sopor will help you sleep soundly, and you’ll heal up faster that way. Try to relax, hmm? For me?”  
With a soft sound of agreement, Ψ shut his eyes and snuggled closer.

Dualscar was still shifting restlessly minutes later. _Now, how am I meant to get comfortable enough to fall asleep without cushions to stuff wherever I want them?_ The answer came to him in a flash. “Ψ, may I borrow your arms and legs?”  
The answer was nigh-incoherent with sleep, but the tone was positive. Dualscar bent Ψ’s elbows and knees gently, wrapping the limbs around himself like a second layer of cocoon. They were rather thin and hard, but, buoyed by their support, he was able to drift off at last.


	7. Clearing the Mess, Part 1

Dualscar woke much as he’d expected to, with one arm flung out of the ‘coon and both fins spread wide to radiate heat from the too-warm slime. He’d be glad of the warmth come winter, though. And, he thought, looking down, he’d be glad of the warm body beside him far sooner. He didn’t want to wake Ψ – not really – but he couldn’t resist drawing him into a hug. _Someone to hold and snuggle all for my very own, oh, it’s been so long…_

“Nhhm,” Ψ mumbled into Dualscar’s shoulder before pushing his head up over the rim of the ‘coon. “Do we have time, thtill?”  
“We should, it’s…early, I think,” Dualscar supplied. It _felt_ early. There was a porthole, well-curtained enough that he couldn’t tell the time via penetrating light beams, and another totally blocked by a bookcase that they’d left in place. Probably this was one of the rooms Eridan had frequented when he couldn’t sleep. “Go check the time on the wall clock in the room we were in last night, if you want to make sure. Wait, wait,” he held onto Ψ with one hand and slicked most of the slime off him with the other so he wouldn’t drip on the floor, “There, _now_ you can go.”  
Belatedly, as Ψ drifted out the door, his sleep-fuzzed brain realized that if it _wasn’t_ early, and/or Eridan _was_ awake, he would be likely to object to a naked Ψ floating around the hallways.  
_Oh well_.

Dualscar dozed for a few moments, pillowing his head on his hands and leaning against the lip of the recuperacoon. Ψ returned, and shut the door softly behind him.  
“I think you were right,” he said. “One hand up and the other not-quite-thtraight down, that’th ‘early,’ right?”  
He indicated the positions with his hands as Dualscar blinked blearily. That was either “five” or “seven,” from the look of it. “Gracious, it _is_ early,” he agreed. No matter how tired he’d been, he had _not_ slept past noon; there was no way. “Come back in here. Nnh, no, wait,” he amended, heaving himself mostly upright and out of the ‘coon, brusquely brushing off slime, “I need the bathroom first.”  
Luckily, the bathroom was just down the hall. Dualscar was too sleepy to be fussed about the possibility of rousing Eridan; with Ψ beside him, he rather felt as if they ought to be giggling inanely over the amount of sneaking around they were doing, as if they were wrigglers having a sleepover and trying not to wake the resident lusus. Ψ followed him out and back, and slipped into the slime beside him when he’d settled again.  
Dualscar’s brain finally kicked into gear enough for him to realize he hadn’t properly answered Ψ’s question. “And yes, of course we still have time to spend together. All the time you could want! There’s nowhere else I have to go, and I’m certainly not going to send you away.”

His fins drooped. “Of course, you can leave whenever you want to, if you’re feeling better, but,” he gulped, “I hope you’ll stay” _with me!_ “A little while, at least.”  
To Dualscar’s surprise, Ψ rolled his eyes at him. “And where ekthactly am I gonna _go?_ ”  
He hadn’t given it much thought, other than _away._ “A city, I guess.” _Where crowds of people will swallow you up, and I’ll never see you again._  
Ψ snorted a laugh, dismissive. “Dee, I wath jutht _in_ a thity.”  
“And?” Dualscar prompted. He oughtn’t to get his hopes up over Ψ’s evident contempt; probably another city would suit him better, or even a town… “Nothing” _no one_ “there to tempt you?”  
“Dee!” Was that - injured surprise in his voice? “It’th jutht - !” Ψ was quickly overwhelmed by some strong emotion; he struggled furiously for the right words, frustrated. “The –” (the rest of the thought turned into something garbled) “ _…Kidth,_ Dee! And –” Dualscar, befuddled, blocked a flailing arm as Ψ lost his way in the sentence again, finally repeating “They’re all jutht _kidth._ ”

_Oh._  
_OH!_

A laugh caught Dualscar by surprise; he clapped his hands over his mouth and burrowed back into the slime to smother it. _Of course!_ It was a planet of _children_ ; there wouldn’t be anyone here who _interested_ Ψ. He’d have, at best, a bunch of inexperienced redbloods to compete with for Ψ’s attention.  
_What luck!_

Ψ was considering him curiously. “Dee?” He sounded deeply unsure.  
“It’s nothing,” Dualscar reassured him, “my dear.” _So daring!_ He nuzzled up under Ψ’s chin. A metal hand crept down to the center of his back.  
Ψ still sounded puzzled. “Dee, are you – were you _jealouth?_ Over _me?!?_ ”  
“Hideously.” No point denying it now.  
“Idiot.”  
The voice was fond, not angry. The hand patted his back. Dualscar smiled.  
“Mmm.”  
Ψ huffed a laugh that was half a sigh. “Don’t worry tho much. I thaid I’d thtay with you, and I _will_ , at the _very_ leatht until you and Eridan thort your shit out. I gotta talk to him about thith.” He raised his free hand in a warding sign. “Jutht talk! I promithe. No threatth, I’ll play nithe. If _he_ will, I mean.”

“He’s a handful,” Dualscar admitted, giving Ψ’s ear an exasperated nuzzle. “And you’re another.”  
“Good thing you have thuch big handth, then,” Ψ said. He fit his thin metal palm into Dualscar’s as if to demonstrate; it barely half-covered it. Dualscar sighed indulgently.  
“They’re for _swimming_ , I said. And what about you?” He poked Ψ’s shoulder. “Are you _meant_ to be this long and narrow?”  
“Dunno. Not like I remember, but,” Ψ wriggled all over, gleeful, “I like it! I’m taller than everyone. I’m taller than _you!_ I’m taller than Thollukth, and that really pitheth him off!”  
“You are _wastefully_ tall,” Dualscar chided agreeably, an arm around Ψ’s shoulders. “I mean, it’s not like you need those extra inches to reach things down from high shelves!”  
“Eeheeheeheehee,” Ψ giggled in agreement as Dualscar pinched at the sensitive spots around his ribs.  
…And if one thing led to another, well, there was no one there to judge.

When they were both thoroughly steeped in slime and snuggles, Dualscar judged it time for a shower. Luckily, the showerhead was detachable, and he managed to maneuver it around Ψ’s prosthetics, settling for simply wiping them down again. He made sure to turn down the temperature before settling under the spray himself. Once cleaned, dried and dressed – they fussed a bit over each other’s clothes, but Ψ looked to be much more comfortable in his old suit – they proceeded downstairs for breakfast.

“All right, all right,” Dualscar began, as he juiced apples from the fruitbowl, Ψ hovering close by his elbow. “You can have actual food tonight. But go easy, all right? I’m gonna be keeping a close eye on you until I’m sure you’re passing solids properly.” He paused to give Ψ a slow kiss as he reached down plates. “I’m sorry we don’t have a proper doctor here for you.”  
“I never had one before, either, Dee,” Ψ said, wrinkling his brow. “At leatht, I never got any proper doctoring from them.” He gave a small shiver.  
Dualscar shooed him back to the table and set a small plate with a single biscuit in the center in front of him when he’d sat down. “Here. Start with just one. Now wait!” Ψ paused with the biscuit halfway in his open mouth. “ _Small_ bites, please. And don’t forget to chew.”  
Ψ took a smaller bite, tried to swallow the dry biscuit, and coughed it back to the front of his mouth.

“ _Chew_ , I said! Mush the food between your teeth for a little while.”  
Ψ attempted this, then swallowed with somewhat more success, although he still coughed afterwards. He took another quick bite. “It’th thticking.”  
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, please,” said Dualscar as Ψ chewed. “The biscuits are a bit dried out, that’s all. Here, this juice should help.” He set the glass down next to the plate and Ψ grabbed at it. “No, don’t drink while you still have food in your mouth!” The last bit of this sage advice was drowned out by the sound of Ψ choking, yet again, and coughing juice and biscuit bits across the table.  
“Thorry,” he said, when he got his breath back.  
Dualscar rubbed his back reassuringly before going to fetch the dishcloth. “Remind me not to serve you anything coated in powdered sugar for a while.”

There wasn’t much point to cooking something fresh when his master wouldn’t be there to eat it for a while, Dualscar decided, and he didn’t particularly want to risk rousing him earlier than necessary with the smell, either. He contented himself with leftovers. Eridan could have a hot meal whenever he deigned to get up and grace them with his presence. 

Their toothbrushes were still in the guest bathroom; after a moment’s thought, Dualscar decided to leave them there. It would save some space on evenings when they were all primping at the same time. They took a walk outside around the deck afterwards – that is, Dualscar took a walk around the deck; after a few minutes, Ψ abandoned him in favor of taking a float around the island. _More of a glorified sandbar, really,_ thought Dualscar, watching him bob around the point and out of sight in the gathering gloom, sticking close to the ground as he’d promised. The rain had ended, but the clouds remained. _Well, maybe he’ll find some interesting rocks, or something else that’ll keep him entertained for a bit._

As he gazed out over land and sea, the door behind him shut softly; he turned, and saw Eridan stepping out onto the deck. Dualscar realized with dismay that he’d been clomping around the deck right over his head for several minutes; not the best way to wake someone, when you wanted them in a good mood. He offered an apologetic smile as his master approached him.

“I’m sorry. Did we wake you?”  
His master brushed his concerns aside with a wave of his hand. “’S’alright,” he yawned. He looked rather hurriedly put together; nothing like the care he’d taken with his appearance yesternight. _We’re not worth showing off for, I suspect._  
Dualscar made a small show of fussing over his master’s clothes, righting the collar and straightening the jacket. “Oh here, let me –” He paused at his master’s wild hair, then pulled the comb from his pocket and set to.

At the first tug, Eridan shivered all over. With great care, Dualscar pulled the comb through his locks over and over, neatening the style and gentling his master’s temper all at once. Eridan leaned heavily against the rail, utterly relaxed; his eyes, half-lidded, gazed out at nothing, unfocused. Eventually, the waves had been schooled into good order, and Dualscar was forced to put his comb away again. It took Eridan long moments to blink off his reverie. In the meantime, Dualscar joined him, leaning on the rail and looking landwards. No sign of Ψ, although those dark specks bobbing in midair near the far side of the island were probably related. _Is he juggling rocks?_

Dualscar and Eridan shared twin sighs of contentment, then looked at each other, startled. After a moment, Eridan grinned in amusement; Dualscar allowed himself to smile back. They both returned to staring out over the rail in companionable silence, listening to the waves on the shore.

“So. That’s your kismesis, eh?” Dualscar said nonchalantly. He gave Eridan an approving nod. “Got a mouth on him, just like my Ψ.”  
Dualscar bit his lip at the slip, but his master let it slide. He didn’t appear to be growing defensive either. Good. Dualscar pressed on. “Have you any other quadrants?”  
Eridan puffed up a bit with pride. “Got a matesprit too.”  
“And an auspistice,” Dualscar recalled. “My, you’re doing well for yourself.” He waited a beat, then glanced sideways at Eridan, pointedly. “No moirail?”  
That deflated him rather quickly. “N-no. Had one for a wwhile, though,” he hedged.

“Ahh.” Dualscar sighed wistfully, looking out over the rail at the sea instead of at Eridan. “I’ve never had a moirail,” he admitted. “What was he like?”  
“She.”  
Dualscar raised an eyebrow at that. _Really? That can’t have been an equal relationship, then._  
Eridan was still talking. “She wwas alwways nice to me, to evverybody really, and she put up wwith my crap until she just _couldn’t_ anymore, and she broke it off, and,” his voice broke, faint but noticeable, “and I told her I wwas flushed for her, like a chump, but she said no,” his hands clenched into fists and his shoulders stiffened, expression darkening, “and she wwound up wwith _Sol_ , of all people…”

He paused to draw breath, and heaved out an angry noise of frustration. “Ahh,” Dualscar sighed soothingly beside him. “I _was_ going to ask, what made you decide to hate him.” He stretched, and turned to lean sideways against the rail, facing Eridan. “I know his type; it’s a tossup between being pissed off and being amused by that sort. But go on,” he waved a hand, “tell me more; your moirail couldn’t take you, and you weren’t pale for her anyway. Was it just bad timing, you think? Something you could’ve worked out? Or was it not right from the start?”

“I…honestly, I dunno,” said Eridan, staring morosely at the waves. “It wwas such a surprise - it felt like she wwas a different person after she left. Like, I thought I kneww her really wwell, and then she wwas _gone_ , an’ actin’ so different wwith other people, it wwas like suddenly I didn’t knoww wwho she wwas at all.” He shrugged. “Maybe I nevver did. The timin’ _wwas_ shitty, though, since evverythin’ wwas goin’ dowwn at once. Includin’ me.”

“A confession and a breakup don’t really fit neatly in the same space,” Dualscar agreed. “Sometimes, it can help make a cleaner break, though. You needn’t cling to someone who’s given you that _definite_ ‘no,’ both ways.” He reached over to pat the boy’s shoulder; Eridan straightened a bit at his touch. “Situations like yours are pretty common, where two people go together well at the start but then grow in different ways until they both realize the fit’s not right anymore. Sometimes they do try something else. It’s most often some form of red-black reversal, but a pale-red proposal is not unusual. I even saw a black-pale flip that _worked_ , once, and it _stuck_ , too!”

He had Eridan’s full attention now. “Going from pale to black’s more dangerous though, and I can’t recommend it. Normally, a new kismesis wouldn’t have much to work with, but an old moirail could destroy you utterly. Pale-to-ash flips are safer, if the break is a particularly bitter one.” Dualscar left his hand at Eridan’s back; just a gentle touch to keep up the connection.  
Slowly, Eridan slumped further forward, dangling both arms loosely over the railing. “Wwe’re not that bad off,” he confessed. “I mean, she tried to be real nice about it. It wwasn’t evven like she wwas mad or blamin’ me or nothin,’ she wwas just – tired. An’ I couldn’t be mad at her, she wwas my perfect evverythin.’ Then Sol, like, got in the wway.” He brought his arms up to pillow his head; Dualscar began rubbing lightly at his back.  
“How old were you, at the time?” he asked.  
“Six.”  
Dualscar snorted, and then frantically tried to backpedal. “Ah! No. I’m not making light of you, honest! It just…makes a lot more sense now.” He deepened the backrub. “Sometimes I wonder how _I_ survived that age. Everything _feels_ so much more, so _intense_ , when you’re new to it. Mmm, and don’t feel bad about having strong feelings for someone. I think I might’ve considered the Condesce _my_ ‘perfect everything,’ right up until I got to know her.”  
Eridan gave him a sideways glance and a sort of noncommittal _hmph._

“So, she tried to cut you off with no hard feelings,” Dualscar prompted soothingly, attempting to return to the discussion at hand.  
An ugly chuckle answered him. “I guess she figured wwe’d still havve our friendship, but,” Eridan took on a bitter air, “Some friend. She wwasn’t there wwhen I needed her. No one wwas.”  
Dualscar commiserated. “Not much of a ship, if it spills out all but one on rough seas.”  
_Ah, poor thing, to lack friends when he most needed them._ “Can you depend on your friends _now_?”  
“Oh – I guess –” _Not very reassuring._ Eridan turned around to lean his back on the rail casually. Dualscar thought about doing likewise, but decided to go back to scanning the beach for signs of Ψ. “I’m tryin’ to be more dependable, myself. To evverybody, I mean.” There was an air of desperate bravado to his words, which Dualscar felt might be dangerous to poke at. He elected to steer away from the topic instead.

“That’s good to hear. So it sounds like you two knew each other for quite a while before all this. How did you meet her?”  
“Oh,” Eridan turned and gestured vaguely at the waves, “She livves nearby –”  
“What, underwater?” Dualscar broke in. Eridan nodded. Dualscar waved a hand, shaking his head incredulously. “Wait, wait, back up. Are you telling me your kismesis has a seadweller for a _matesprit_ too?!”  
Another nod. Dualscar rubbed his face and began chuckling. “Oh, my. You have _nothing_ to worry about with him.”  
At Eridan’s look, he explained further. “How many seadwellers do you think he knows?”  
“Twwo.”  
“And he’s managed to stick them _both_ in his concupiscent quadrants, despite knowing probably ten times that many landdwellers. Well, let’s be conservative and say five times; he seems the reclusive type. What does that tell you?”  
“Er?” Eridan folded back one fin, puzzled. Dualscar reached an arm around to pat him on the back.

“Your spade has what’s colloquially known as a ‘fin fetish:’ a _thing_ for seadwellers,” he gloated. “If you two break up, what do you think his chances are of meeting another seadweller to replace you?”  
“Pretty…much…zero?” guessed Eridan, holding Dualscar’s gaze.  
“ _Right!_ Someone like him wouldn’t have a lot of opportunity to mingle with high society. He’s not much of a mingler, anyway, I’d guess. So, just remember, you’ve got every advantage in this relationship. He can’t _afford_ to lose you! You might want to remind him, occasionally, that it’s a lot more work to _get_ someone than to _keep_ them, but that doesn’t mean that keeping them is no work at _all_.”  
He ruffled a hand through Eridan’s hair, then thought better of it and set to work with his comb again instead. “Of course, you’ve got to work at it too; it can’t all be on him.

“No moirail, though,” he mused. “Well, we can work on that as well.” Hair properly sorted once again, he tapped Eridan’s head playfully with the comb. “Maybe if you saw your friends more often, one of them would fall for you, hmm?”  
“Not likely,” Eridan groused, slumping into himself. _Strange. He looks so…defeated. He can’t even have tried properly yet._  
Dualscar forced out a chuckle, to lighten the mood. “Well, I guess I can’t claim to be an expert on pale feelings. My knowledge of moirallegiance is all second-hand, after all. You probably know more about it than I do!”

Eridan aimed a half-hearted angry kick at one of the posts holding up the rail. “I don’t _wwanna_ be pacified anymore!” he declared. “I’m just gonna wwind up wwith one more person wwho’s fed up and can’t stand me!”  
“Is that really all your moirail did for you?” said Dualscar, curious.  
“Wwell – I mean – she tried,” Eridan choked out awkwardly, not meeting his eyes.  
_Why this sudden floundering? (How far will he let me pry?) Of course she didn’t suit his needs; they broke up, after all._ Dualscar was bothered, suddenly, by the boy’s ( _his master’s_ ) vagueness. This was one of the ones he needed to know more about, he decided. No point trying to cruise through on minimal knowledge until his reclamation. Eridan was a puzzle he’d have to go in deep to figure out.

“You must’ve seen a lot of ‘em in action.” Eridan looked sort of anxiously hopeful. “Wwell, wwhat do _you_ think a moirail is for, or should be?”  
Now it was Dualscar’s turn to flounder, trying to put into words old half-formed notions of a thing he’d never had for his own. “A diamond is...” he held up a loose fist in front of his face and sort of waved it, “something you hold out in front of you, and it rubs the sharp edges off the world, yeah?” He dropped his hand to the rail, “But, it’s because, diamond’s the hardest, you know,” and finally rambled to a halt, self-conscious.  
Luckily for their sakes, the increasingly-doomed conversation was abandoned as Ψ floated into view and approached the ship, towing something.

“Find anything interesting?” Dualscar called. Ψ smiled up at him.  
“Jutht a lot of rockth and thand with thome thcrubby bitth,” he replied, floating up to join them. “And thome…” He held it up.  
“Driftwood,” Dualscar supplied. “You can leave it on the beach if you don’t have plans for it. Some people make furnishings with it, or burn it for fuel.” The piece flopped back onto the damp sand below.  
“Let’s go in and have breakfast,” Dualscar proposed, giving Eridan a smile. “The future’s always brighter with a good meal inside you.”

Eridan’s eyes followed Dualscar closely as he fried up a quick plate of fish hash and served it over split biscuits with a cup of chilled juice, to murmured thanks. For a fleeting moment, Dualscar was tempted to invite the boy to come join him, since he seemed to be taking such an interest in the proceedings. _But no,_ he thought, as Ψ swung away from the window to hover over his shoulder while he cleaned the pan and Eridan stopped eating to shoot a sharp glare in their direction, _it’s probably not me he’s focused on._

Belatedly, he realized something, and stepped around to the table to do the thing properly, tugging Ψ along. “Ah. Eridan. May I introduce you? This is the Ψiioniic, my mate. Ψ, this is Eridan Ampora, my – descendant.”  
They both took on an air of wary circling. _I guess I can’t honestly expect mutual “pleased to meet you”s, can I._ “Wwe’vve met,” said Eridan, curtly. His expression had darkened at “ _mate_ ” in a way that warranted further attention.  
“I mean, my mate for this season.” Eridan left off not-quite-baring-his-teeth at Ψ to glance curiously at Dualscar. “For the breeding season, I have a mate and a master. Sometimes they’re the same person, but,” he waved a hand at each of them, “they don’t have to be.”

At “ _master_ ”, Ψ started not-quite-growling at Eridan; it was more of a low-pitched grumble of discontentment. He refused to relinquish his hold on Dualscar’s shoulder.  
“Er, perhaps I should start over. Eridan, this is an old friend of mine, the Ψiioniic. I hope you two, uh...”  
He floundered. _Will get along? (Ha ha.) Won’t kill each other? Maybe go for honesty._  
“Won’t need me to auspisticize?” he finished. _Right, the quadrant angle might work, he’s got someone there already. I just haven’t the strength right now._

Ψ looked annoyed at that. “Oh, come on, Dee! My duality gimmick athide, that ith _not_ where I want you.” Since an accurate description of where Ψ _did_ want him was likely to include embarrassingly specific positioning, Dualscar decided to cut him off. “Eridan? Can you live with him?” He widened his eyes and drew back his fins again, shrinking in on himself. “I need to know. We can work out something else if not.” _Like a rotating schedule of who’s awake. Or frequent visits._

Eridan was matching Ψ’s subvocal noise of displeasure; he shot Dualscar a look of…angry concern, maybe? “I just don’t trust him with you,” he said flatly.  
Ψ snorted, affronted. “Oh yeah? Well, I promithe _I_ won’t forthe mythelf on him, how ‘bout that?”  
Eridan flushed bright violet, vibrating with some powerful emotion – rage? Dualscar spoke quickly to cut him off. “Ψ. That was out of line.” He laid an admonishing hand on Ψ’s head; Ψ’s ears drooped contritely. Curiously, Eridan’s fins followed suit.  
“Thorry,” Ψ said quietly.

Dualscar turned back to Eridan, still rubbing Ψ’s hair. “Look. I _know_ you don’t like Ψ, and you don’t have to! But if you can’t trust him, can you trust _me_ when I say he won’t hurt us? Or – can you articulate _why_ you don’t trust him, and we’ll address that?” He sighed, rubbing his face. “ _Aside_ from the one ill-advised attempt to feel me up while heavily drugged?”

Eridan sulked, scuffing his feet petulantly. “I don’t like it that I can’t tell wwhen he’s usin’ his psionics.”  
Both Dualscar and Ψ started talking as Eridan rambled on.  
“Oh. Well –”  
“That’th alwayth.”  
“All the time, yes, that’s the short answer. They’re not visible because they’re so dispersed.”  
“It’s like, wwith Sol, I can tell he’s doin’ it because they’re red and blue, right? So I can tell if he’s gonna drop something, ‘cause the lights wwink out. Wwith Psii it looks like stuff’s just _floatin'_ , like there’s a _ghost_ or somethin'.” He rubbed at one arm, not meeting their eyes. “It’s…creepy. Dowwnright unsettlin,’ like.”

Dualscar put a hand to his mouth thoughtfully. “Hmm-mmm. _Oh._ ” He should’ve thought of this before. “There’s another reason he makes you feel prickly; you’re within the constant field of his psionics, and you detect it as _pressure_.” He tapped his face fin; Eridan blinked in surprise.

“You can feel them?” said Ψ, delightedly; Dualscar nodded.  
“Mm-hm. I remember feeling them on the ship, when I was close enough to the hull." A sort of reassuring familiarity; _he's here with me._ "Probably why the seadwellers had centralized rooms.”  
“I thought that wath to protect them from hull breacheth.”  
“That too, I suppose.”

Eridan looked confused. “Wwhy near the hull?”  
Ψ took over. “Becauthe! If I jutht pushed on the _back_ of the ship, it’d crunch into the thenter! And if I pulled on the front inthtead, it’d come off! We’re talking about _mathive_ amountth of actheleration, and it had to applied to each part of the hull _individually._ ”

“So,” Dualscar gave himself points for a smooth segue, “his psionics are…well, _I think_ of them as a cloud that surrounds him with a million separate little needlepoints of pressure that are sort of lightly touching everything, all the time. Everything within _reach_ , anyway.”  
“Which ith pretty much everything around here that ithn’t thea,” Ψ agreed. He tipped his head back to face the ceiling briefly. “Or thky.”  
“Right, the whole ship and island are within your…sphere of influence, I guess?” Dualscar smiled. “And I say ‘needlepoints,’ but I know you can adjust them to be sharp or blunt or whatever shape you need to hold and manipulate things. ‘Fingertips’ might be a better analogy.”

“So I can’t see his psionics because…they’re too spread out?” Eridan sounded both nervous and annoyed. Dualscar nodded slowly.  
“I think that’s right, but let’s try an experiment. Ψ, can you bring your psionics _in?_ Like, focus them in the room here with us. Let’s see if the colors become visible.”  
Ψ set his feet on the floor, and leaned on Dualscar. His brow furrowed in concentration. The feeling of pressure in the room grew steadily with each breath. It felt, to Dualscar, like a stifling cloud, like something was _looming_ over him, large and alien. _Danger. Escape. Swim away, quick, hide!_

“Naah! Stop, _stop!_ ”

There _were_ flickers of red and blue, barely visible sparks drifting in midair, just before Ψ dispersed the cloud again. The pressure vanished (relatively speaking). Eridan was curled up on his chair, trembling. Dualscar put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “How far in were you there, Ψ?”  
“Upper levelth of the ship – the living area and the deck. Oh!” Ψ prodded at Eridan with a finger; Dualscar wondered if the boy realized those were _also_ moved by psionics. “I don’t go poking under doors if they’re shut! Tho don’t worry, your privathy ith thafe from me.”  
“I think you might mean ‘modesty,’” suggested Dualscar.  
“Do I? Your body and your thtuff, I mean! Jutht keep your door shut, I won’t peek. But there’th nothing I can do about you feeling antthy around me, thorry.” Ψ grinned, not looking apologetic in the least. “I’m not gonna crush you or anything, though. Dee _liketh_ you.”

Eridan looked actually _reassured_ by that, and Dualscar wondered for the umpteenth time if he’d _ever_ figure the boy out. He wondered, too, how Eridan would react to the hint that his well-being now hinged on keeping Dualscar happy.  
_Maybe he’s already thinking along those lines?_ Maybe Eridan knew more than he was letting on, more than they’d discussed. Maybe maybe maybe – Dualscar tried to bring his thoughts back to the present.

Eridan was still shaking, though, and wouldn’t look up at him. “He can’t – turn them – off?”  
Dualscar shook his head solemnly. “No, he’s gotten used to having them in a state of constant on. They might step down gradually, if they’re not being used.”  
Desperately, “Wwhat about wwhen he’s asleep?”  
“Oh, wouldn’t that be nithe,” Ψ cut in, annoyed at being ignored. “He thinkth I’ve either thpent the latht few thenturieth without thleep, or that the whole ship wath only operating two-thirdth of the time.”  
“ _Shush_ , Ψ. Let _me_ explain it to him.” When Dualscar turned back, Eridan had curled further into himself. He covered the boy’s hands with one of his own; the curl loosened enough for him to catch Eridan’s eye. “Now, then, you’re just rattled and not thinking clearly. You’ve already seen him sleep in midair; his powers don’t just snap off like a light switch when his eyes shut.”

“His eyes _wweren’t_ shut,” Eridan protested quietly. Dualscar conceded the point.  
“Yes, well, all right. They’re _stronger_ with his eyes open. I think he’s got better control when they’re shut, though. Like, he thinks it helps him concentrate? Personally, I like to stare at things when I’m concentrating on them. It’s kind of unnerving for the subject, though.” He gave Eridan a smile. “Regardless! I’m getting off the point. He’s been pushed to the limits of physicality, and even beyond; he almost never had a true rest on that ship. His powers _are_ very strong, and there’s nothing to be done about that, but I trust his control over them completely. It’s not that I’m trusting his body so much as the person running it. He doesn’t mean you harm; he doesn’t _want_ to mean you harm. He just wants to be left alone, more or less. Er,” he amended, as Ψ snuggled up to his side aggressively, “That’d be ‘more’ in your case, and ‘less’ in mine.”

“Wwhy can’t he go back an’ stay wwith Sol, if he’s better?” the boy asked desperately, uncurling further.  
Dualscar pouted, _no, don’t send him away_ , but Ψ scoffed. “I can’t live with that kid. We’re _too_ alike, we’re both charged the same way.”  
It clicked. “I get it,” said Dualscar, just as Eridan said “Wwhat?”  
“He means they’re like electrical charges, or poles of a magnet. They share a charge, both positive or both negative, so naturally they repel each other.”  
Dualscar reached back over his shoulder and patted at Ψ’s head without looking, hitting somewhere between his ear and horns, by the feel of it. Eridan looked dismayed. “They’d make terrible hivemates for each other. Besides, you ordered food and clothes for him so he could stay a while. It’d be a shame to let all that go to waste.” _Dammit, I’m wheedling again._

“But then, wwhy aren’t – I mean, wwe aren’t-”  
“Like that?” Dualscar finished after a moment’s awkward silence. “I don’t know, but I’m glad we _are_ compatible.” _You need the help._ “I’m going to need some help for a while after I lay, and I don’t want to put the burden all on Ψ. Besides, it’ll do you good to see what a brood cycle’s like, before you dive into it.”

Dualscar decided to run his plans by Eridan before the boy could tuck himself away in his room again.  
“I’d like to get organized before I tackle any major hivecleaning,” he said. “There are several places I’d like to start, but I think it’d be best to focus my efforts on one room at a time.”  
“D’you need my help for it?” Eridan asked at once. He sounded…hopeful, maybe?  
Dualscar waffled; Ψ would be likely to make the same offer. “Well. Let me…do a walkthrough and make a list, how about that? Note down absolutely everything that needs to be cleaned or fixed or put away or gotten rid of or whatever. And then you can go over it with me and help me prioritize what most needs doing. Or…” He paused, and cocked his head, smiling. “Would you prefer to come with me, and point out what _you_ consider to be the problem areas?”

Eridan smiled at him and got up, ready to begin helping right away (or possibly just eager to leave the room.) He deposited his breakfast dishes in the sink, to Dualscar’s mild protestations.  
“Oh,” _don’t do that!_ “Here, let me; it’s better to wash them right away. Easier to get the stains off that way.” He made a quick job of it, so as not to leave his master waiting too long.

The walkthrough was fairly quick; Eridan kept sneaking nervous glances over his shoulder at Ψ, who floated silently behind them.  
“Unnerving, isn’t he?” murmured Dualscar to Eridan, and gave him a wink. “Don’t let him upset you. If you want him to babble so you can hear where he is, he will.”  
“Mmm,” said Eridan, noncommittally; he looked worried regardless. He flanked Dualscar on the stairs down to the hold, evidently unable to decide whether he wanted to get between Ψ and Dualscar, or have Dualscar between him and Ψ.

Together, they stared at the mess that was the first hold in silence for a time, overwhelmed. Finally Dualscar cleared his throat.  
“The lower hold’s half-flooded,” he said, “so I don’t imagine there’s much of value stored there; I saw some nets and things that might still be good. If you’re willing to trust my judgment on what’s worth keeping and what’s too rotted to use, we can skip looking over that one, and just start here.”  
Eridan agreed readily enough. “It’s wworse at high tide. Let’s stay outta there as much as possible,” he suggested. “That wwater gets so gross, I’m alwways afraid I’m gonna catch somethin’ from it.” 

“All right, so the main hold,” Dualscar pulled out his pad and pen, gesturing with them as he talked, “is storage. Has been for a while, I’d guess?” Eridan nodded. “So…hmm. How can I tell what’s still being used, or what’ll be needed,” he mused quietly, mostly to himself. “How about…you tell me what your interests and hobbies are, or like, what they’re _going_ to be rather than what they _were?_ Like, what you’re interested in now, and what you want to start doing or learning in the future…eh, the fairly near future. Next…five, ten sweeps?”  
Eridan was flicking glances between Dualscar and the piles of junk, still dubious, but he nodded when he realized he was being addressed.

Dualscar scribbled “Interests” on the top sheet of his pad, tore it off, and handed it over. “So, just make me a list of stuff you’re into now and stuff you want to get into. Anything you can think of is fine, and I’ll keep an eye out for the relevant materials, but make sure it’s something you actually plan to _do_ , not just talk about.” He turned back toward the stairs, and found himself heading a small procession of people, all equally willing to leave the giant mess of junk untouched indefinitely, if possible. “Also point out if there’s anything you’ve _stopped_ doing, and we can clear that stuff out. We’ll leave the holds alone for now, and concentrate on the better-used areas, hmm?”

They trailed down the hall past the galley, Eridan now very firmly in front and keeping out of Ψ’s way. One of the more fusty parlors inspired Eridan to make some remarks about a complete update of the interior decorating, to which Dualscar made polite noises of interest without committing to anything. _Sort holds w/Eridan’s list_ went on Dualscar’s pad, followed by _Organize libraries_ , to which he added _sort/catalog books_ , with Eridan’s name in parentheses; he’d be the final arbiter. Dualscar didn’t have much faith in his own ability to inspire a sudden desire to weed the collection in someone who had seen fit to acquire five encyclopedias in the first place. _Dust_ seemed to go hand-in-hand with the whole business, too. He wrote _reorganize galley cupboards_ as they passed, and tacked on _cook_ as an afterthought. Meanwhile, Eridan chattered about changing the colors of things, or maybe buying some new towels; he didn’t seem to see the need for such a thorough cleaning as Dualscar had planned.

They climbed to the upper hallway; Dualscar’s list gained _scrub floors_ and _scrub bathrooms_ at once. He rather ambitiously added _scrub windows?_ with Ψ’s name next to it, although it certainly wouldn’t be a priority. _Laundry_ was already done, but he put it on in small letters; it’d doubtless come up again before the rest of the chores were finished.  
Peeking into Eridan’s room was rather inspiring, chorewise. Dualscar finally settled on _organize desk, wardrobe?_ and _pick up Eridan’s room, etc._ There seemed to be a good deal more… _strewing_ going on on this level; Eridan’s floor was merely the epicenter of a storm of small discarded objects that encompassed several surrounding rooms as well. _Does he never put **anything** away?_  
He remembered to add _find wardrobe/reorganize furniture_ for his own room as they came to the end of the hall and the stairs to the deck.

“An’ I don’t much use the upper rooms anymore, so they prob’ly wwon’t need more’n a good swweepout –”  
Beside him, Ψ perked up, then deflated. Dualscar had been aware, in the back of his mind, that there _were_ upper levels, but he hadn’t had much reason to look through them yet. He let it go for now; Eridan was flapping his arms in what was, unless he was _very_ much mistaken, a clear NOTHING TO SEE HERE gesture of deflection. Best give him a night or two to hide whatever embarrassment was up there, then.

Instead, Dualscar gestured to the “temporary” bulkheads that had been used to close off the hallway where the gash in the hull would have exposed it. The stopgap measures had obviously been in place for some time; the ship might not be worth more extensive repairs. “Now, the far side of the ship –“  
“Is unused,” Eridan answered at once. “It’s been sealed off for ages. Probably dusty as hell, but there’s nothin’ there.”  
Ψ floated between them, and shut his eyes, concentrating for a long moment. “There’th thome furniture that’th too big to move,” he said eventually, “but not much elthe.”  
Dualscar cocked his head. “Too…big?”  
Ψ gave him a friendly grin. “Won’t fit through the doorth, or nailed to the wall, that thort of thing. Not _worth_ moving, I should’ve thaid. Obviouthly I _can_ move it.”

The ship creaked alarmingly, and the floor shifted under them. Eridan screeched and grabbed onto a doorway; Dualscar elected to grab onto Ψ, who was closer. “Dammit, STOP that!”  
Ψ’s ears flicked down at the scolding; he made a _you’re mad?_ face at Dualscar, along with a sort of querulous murbling noise low in his throat.  
Dualscar glared back at him. _YES, I’M MAD!_  
“ _Don’t try to move this ship!_ It’s badly damaged and you might make it worse!”  
Ψ flinched away, muttering, “Thorry. I’m thorry.”

Sighing, Dualscar waved him back into place, _here, come here, come back._ “Let’s just…step it down, shall we?” He thrust his list at Eridan. “You can go over that and mark where you want me to start. Prioritize however you want, okay? We’ll just…take a moment to cool our heads. If you don’t mind.”  
Eridan waved them off with a look of concern before he turned to read over Dualscar’s note.

Dualscar tugged Ψ down the hall to the bathroom to settle their nerves with such necessities as cold water splashed on both their faces, a quick straightening of hair and clothes, and, all right, smooches ( _quiet_ smooches.) Ψ nuzzled urgently against Dualscar’s face.  
_Don’t be mad, can I make you happy instead?_  
_Yes, well, all right, don’t do it again, **ooh,** but definitely do **that** again, mmm._  
Some long moments (but short minutes) later, they parted. “Don’t worry me so,” Dualscar grumbled softly into Ψ’s chest.  
Ψ nestled his chin between Dualscar’s horn, humming a soft, pleasant tone; not wholly remorseful, then, but at least a bit contrite.

Eridan was banging around in his room when they emerged, refreshed, minutes later. He met them at his door with a look of profound exasperation. “I think make the desk a priority; I can’t find a wworkin’ pen.” He handed back the list, which now bore streaks of bright pink overlay on some items. “But I thought maybe wwe could wwork together on catalogin’ the books, maybe after lunch?” Eridan’s voice held an unmistakable note of hope, even as he glanced back and forth between them; belatedly, Dualscar realized he’d kept Ψ close even after they’d stopped embracing, and sidestepped hurriedly out of Ψ’s personal space, dropping his hand as he did so. Ψ looked quizzical at the sudden break.  
_I don’t want Eridan to be mad at me, or jealous of Ψ when he doesn’t have to be._

“Now, I believe you wanted me to start with the desk in your room?”  
“Uh.” Eridan seemed to be having second thoughts. “Lemme clean up in there a little first.”  
He looked uncomfortable. _Another stash of illicit goods? Is he smuggling contraband?_  
“Fair enough!” Dualscar concluded. “I still have some time before I need to start lunch, though. For now, let’s start with…” He spied a jumble of furniture in a room they’d just passed. “Finding places for the things we moved out of my room, how about that?”  
“So…gettin’ you a wwardrobe an’ stuff, too, maybe,” said Eridan, looking at the list with an intensity it really didn’t warrant. “Okay by me, so long as you leave the stuff in my room alone. Is there anythin’ you’re gonna need my help wwith?”

“Hmm…let me see…” Dualscar checked his list (over Eridan’s shoulder.) “Ah, yes! I’ll need your input on the libraries – weeding and reorganization. Do you have your books cataloged, by any chance?”  
Eridan shook his head. Ψ boggled. “All of _thothe?_ ”  
“Well, it ought to be done sooner rather than later, if it’s to be a proper library. You’ve got multiple editions of the same encyclopedia, for one thing. Why not just the most recent?

“Oh!” Eridan perked up. “The oldest one, I compared them, and it’s _different!_ ”  
“Really!” Dualscar perked up his fins in surprise. “I suppose I could support keeping two for cross-checking purposes, then, or for tracking how history’s been revised.” _And in what direction?_  
“Also, I think I bought extras just to make the shelvves look full.” Eridan fidgeted at Dualscar’s look.  
Dualscar sighed, trying to sound indulgent and understanding rather than annoyed. “I assume you’ve got some sort of database or spreadsheet program on your husktop? Good, you can use that for cataloging, when we get that far. Weeding comes first. Let’s…hmm.” He nibbled a knuckle absentmindedly. “If you set some criteria, I can do a rough sort by condition or age or subject or whatever, and you can look at the ones I pull out later, before we toss ‘em. That’ll need some sturdy boxes, or a lot a floor space in an unused room, so let’s start with moving the furniture after all.”

Ψ brightened. “Yes, we’ll be counting on you for the heavy lifting,” said Dualscar, patting his shoulder.  
As it turned out, there were no extra wardrobes, dressers, or clothes presses to be found on the lower levels of the ship, (“no, Ψ, I do _not_ want you to knock out part of a wall to ‘make a closet,’ there’s a _room_ next door,”) so Eridan showed them around the above-deck levels as well. Dualscar appreciated the guided tour, and made mental notes of the areas Eridan seemed particularly keen on blocking from view.

“Wwhat’s that you’re wwritin’?”  
“Oh, just ticking off the number of additional book rooms – well, rooms that have books in them. So far I’ve seen another six.”  
“I think there’s a few more shelvves up ahead.”

They wound up emptying one of the lesser-used, movable bookshelves, leaving the books on the floor in an obvious library. The shelf sailed merrily down the stairs without them, turning the corners neatly without bumping.

“Hmm. Here, send a few of these novels with it. It’ll look too empty with just the almanac. And then I’ll have something to do while I recuperate after laying.”  
Eridan stopped him. “Wwait, wwait, not those, _Flame of Passion’s Flame_ is fuckin’ _awwful._ Wwhy do you think I stuck ‘em up here to get all dusty? Take some a’ the good ones from dowwnstairs. You can pick ‘em out wwhile you’re sortin’.”  
Dualscar made a mark on his sheet. _Sounds like this whole lot can go, then._ A familiar cover caught his eye. “Oh, but you’ve got _The Ripping of the Bodice_ here!”  
Eridan made an exasperated noise. “It’s not evven the _good_ kind of trash!”  
“I know, but it’s a _classic._ And it’s been so long since I’ve read it, too…” Dualscar thumbed through the yellowed pages eagerly. “Yes, all right, I’ll just take this and those other two for now.”

Finally, they discovered a dresser in an especially dusty, cramped space at the very top of the ship. An attic, Dualscar would have said, except nearly the whole _ship_ seemed to have the feel of an attic: an ill-curated museum of somebody else’s old treasures.

“Wwhat’s evven in here? – Oh hey!” said Eridan, holding up a tiny shirt. “I havven’t worn these –“  
_For how long?_  
“-since I wwas, like, three.”  
_Damn._ “They’re about that size,” Dualscar agreed. “I suppose we could use them as rags? Or, if the fabric’s anything special and they’re not too stained, offer them to Kanaya for scrap? Or…not,” he amended, as Eridan hugged the shirt protectively and gave him a reproachful look. “They’re not doing anyone any good going to ruin up here, though. Let’s bring the whole lot down with us.”  
The dresser floated up to Eridan, extending a drawer towards him in obvious invitation, until he reluctantly folded the shirt and put it back into place. The three of them followed it back down to the deck level. Dualscar stepped out for a breath of fresh air; the others followed.

“I don’t suppose there’re any empty boxes to be had around here, or at least I haven’t seen any,” said Dualscar with a sigh. “We’ll have to order some. We can’t just keep moving the unwanted things around, and keeping them is a waste of space.”  
“But there’s plenty of room,” Eridan protested. “I don’t hardly use half this ship.”  
_I know._ “But I think having mounds of useless junk around is depressing – more so when it could still be _useful_ to someone if you weren’t _sitting_ on it! And just think how it slows down your searching to have to look at three shelves of books you don’t want to read again in order to find the one that you do!”  
“Wwell, all right,” agreed Eridan reluctantly. “I guess I could see getting’ rid of _some_ stuff. Not like I’m plannin’ to fit into those shirts again.” He snorted.

“Oh! Ψ, hold onto that dresser for a moment, please.”  
The dresser paused, visible through the door leading belowdecks. Dualscar turned back to Eridan. “How about putting the stuff you decide not to keep in that big open room on this level? The…dining hall, or whatever it is. There’s an outside door here, too, right, for big stuff that won’t fit up the narrower inside stairs.”  
“I alwways thought of it as a ballroom,” said Eridan, with a shrug and a smile. “That’s fine, I guess.”  
It _did_ have an inviting dancing floor, Dualscar had to admit. “And then we’ll have another room or two below, with the things _I’ve_ sorted that _you_ need to look at…” Dualscar’s mind went racing ahead. The dresser floated back the way it had come, briefly; there were some sliding and clunking noises, and it reappeared. “Thank you, Ψ, that should do for now; oh, what else? I know, you could add that pile of books we left on the floor earlier…”

Dualscar walked over to the railing. A line of sticks in the sand caught his eye. “Oh! Ψ, will you hop me over the side for a bit? I need to update my tide chart.”  
He put a hand on the rail, waited a moment until he felt a soft pressure on his back, and jumped into the air, pushing himself over the side of the ship with one hand. His own momentum wouldn’t have been enough, but with Ψ’s help, his legs cleared the railing cleanly. Behind him, there was a screech of horror, or possibly bafflement; he glanced back over his shoulder as he drifted down to the beach. Ψ was just floating over the rail to join him, and Eridan was hanging back, evidently afraid to approach too closely.  
Dualscar grinned at the boy’s discomfiture. _I’m fine!_ “I’ll just be a few minutes!” he called reassuringly. “I’ll start lunch when I’m done here, all right?”

The waves were only about halfway up his marked line, but the tide was going out already; it must have turned not long before. _Strange._ Dualscar eyed the water level consideringly, then swept his gaze inland. There was a definite strandline of loosely aligned rocks and eroded dunes. However, it was much further up the beach than the tides had gotten since he’d been there.  
He stepped back from the water, and paced one stride up his line of markers before dropping to feel the sand. _Damp; this was underwater earlier this evening._ He paced another few strides to a spot between the highest water level he’d witnessed and what he’d _thought_ was the high water mark, and felt the sand again. _Dry-_ He dug down. _-and deeper than I’d have expected, too._ He picked at a nearby bit of wrack; the dead seaweed was surprisingly brittle, crumbling in his fingers. This spot hadn’t been underwater for quite a long time, discounting the recent rain.  
Ψ waited passively behind him, probably having no idea what he was doing. Dualscar wasn’t too sure himself. He was tempted to beckon Ψ closer for a kiss to clear his head, but his master was still watching anxiously from the deck railing. Finally, he got up, brushed his hands together to knock off the sand, and waved to Ψ. _Enough of this._ “Lunchtime.” 

Dualscar voiced his concerns over lunch (eggs on toasted biscuits for Ψ, savory fish fillets on a bed of greens with a side of caramelized sweet onions for Eridan and him.) “The length of the tides matches your almanac, but the sea level seems persistently lower than the visible marks. Has there been an especially big storm lately, or, I don’t know, an earthquake? Something that pushed the sea much higher than usual?”  
Eridan’s eyes widened as he ceased picking at his greens. “Yeah, there wwas actually! A wwhile ago, though. Like… a swweep or twwo? Could that be it?”  
“It could,” Dualscar admitted. “Storm leavings can linger if they’re not cleaned up.” Eridan didn’t seem too clear on the timing, although in Dualscar’s opinion, there wasn’t a lot of additional embarrassment to be had after you’d let things sit for more than a season. In fact, after five or ten sweeps, washed-up dinghies and the like became just another part of the scenery.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that!” he said, as Ψ swallowed a bite of Eridan’s onions. “Leave him be. And no, that was _not_ an invitation to steal _my_ onions!” He countered Ψ’s approaching fork with his own. “Eat your _own_ lunch!”  
The flying fork attempted a feint-and-pounce maneuver. “C’mon, _one_ more bite.”  
Dualscar sighed, relaxing his vigilance. “You’re going to be insufferable until you get it, I suppose.” _Never happy with just one of anything, are you?_  
“Mmf!” Ψ agreed, happily munching.

Suddenly Dualscar realized he’d been subconsciously leaning towards Ψ, seeking his warmth as a plant seeks light. He pulled back upright, shooting a desperate look at his master. _Did he notice?_  
Eridan _hadn’t_ noticed anything, it seemed, and was now looking curiously at Dualscar. “Somethin’ wwrong?”  
Dualscar tried a bright smile. “No, it’s nothing.”  
Ψ’s ears drooped a bit, but surely they’d have time to talk later.

“All right,” said Dualscar, once he’d finished with the dishes (Ψ and Eridan were sitting at the table trying to ignore each other, and the atmosphere was beginning to feel as if yesternight’s storm had moved inside) “Let’s have another look at that list.”  
He perused the entries; it didn’t sound like a lot, but he knew how much work would go into each line. _Did he highlight cleaning the windows just to get Ψ out of the way?_  
“Your desk…you said you wanted me to hold off on your room for now, so…” He added _Wait for OK_ to the end of those lines.  
“Hmm. At some point, we’re probably going to want to swab the decks and maybe repaint, but that’s a bigger project than I’m able to take on right now.”  
_Cook_ was done for the moment; he added a tick mark, then drew a line through _find wardrobe_ , then paused.  
“I don’t want to start moving more of the furniture around until we’ve determined where I’m actually going to want it,” he confessed. “And I certainly don’t want to start piling it up in the ballroom, or I have a feeling it’ll never leave there. Let’s just do a quick walkthrough and see if we can find a few more pieces for my room, and leave it for now.”

They quickly located the desired trash can, a spare cushy chair, and even _(joy!)_ a coatrack. Contrary to Dualscar’s desire for a few private moments with Ψ, Eridan seemed determined to dog their steps, forcing constant vigilance.  
_Not even time for a hug?_ thought Dualscar sadly, disentangling himself from the metal arm Ψ had draped around his shoulder as Eridan narrowed his eyes at them.

“So, that’s all set for the time being,” Dualscar said, trying to sound satisfied while feeling anything but. “Eridan, if you’re not otherwise busy tonight, would you like to start the cataloging, or at least come up with some sorting guidelines for me?” Ψ attempted to slip into stealth-cuddle position beside him. “And in the meantime, I could…” He checked the list again desperately, but he’d run out of priorities. “Clean the bathrooms, or something...”  
“Wwhy don’t you come wwith me,” said Eridan abruptly, shooting a glare at Ψ. “I’m sure I could use the help – more experienced eyes, and all that.”  
“Er.” Dualscar worried his fingers together, glancing nervously between them. “You wouldn’t rather we, um. Split up.”  
“No, I insist.” He’d gone stubborn, all bristly with his head held high. “Gotta lotta _wwork_ to do and all.”  
Ψ growled, a low noise like grinding gears.  
“Ψ, you-“ _Can go?_  
“I’m _not gonna leave_ you, Dee.” His eyes flashed challenge, but Dualscar, with growing irritation, refused to rise to the bait.  
“You’ll leave if I _tell_ you to.” He half-flared his fins in challenge.  
Ψ warred with his expression for a moment, and then bowed his head, backing down. “Yeth.”  
_He doesn’t want to go, the dear sweet thing -_ Dualscar longed for a soft embrace, a moment’s peace to pull Ψ into his arms, to whisper softly _I don’t want you to go, either_ , but no, he _must_ be strong now, in front of his new master, he _must_. Instead he only nodded –  
-or he _meant_ to, anyway, but he couldn’t stop himself reaching out –  
He patted Ψ on the shoulder, friendly but hopefully not overfamiliar. _Better than nothing, anyway._

“Well. I certainly don’t want you to leave just yet. Come with us, and maybe you can help move books. Eridan, any preference where we start?”  
Eridan only shrugged.  
“All right, we’ll start low and work our way up.”  
“Wwait!”  
The two adults turned and regarded Eridan; he shrank slightly, but soldiered on.  
“Wwhat if we start near your room instead? Then you’ll havve a place to go if you can’t sleep, an’ it’ll look nice wwhen you go by, so you can feel good about it more often –“  
_And the same benefits would apply to you._ “I like the sound of that!” Dualscar put in. “Let’s start in the main library, then.” _At least I know he **can** make decisions, now._

_He keeps looking to me for information,_ thought Dualscar, as they walked. _Or advice, maybe – well, I guess I’m the closest thing to an expert, in his mind? More experienced?_ The regard made him rather uncomfortable. _I wish he wouldn’t depend on me so much. Or no, it’s rather that he’s too trusting. I wouldn’t steer him wrong, but how does he know that?_  
Dualscar shook his head as though that would clear his thinking, and Eridan’s behavior would start making sense. _Perhaps he depends too heavily on being my descendant. Certainly, I shouldn’t want my own flesh and blood to come to harm. And indeed I don’t; no surprise there. But I’ll have to keep an eye on him, to be sure that he’s not generally gullible, and merely survives the aftermath by being better off than average, physically or financially._  
_In the meantime, I guess there’s no harm in offering him all the advice he wants; he doesn’t have to take it, and I’ll make sure he knows that. I just wish he wasn’t making me take the lead on everything. It’s exhausting! And I really don’t feel qualified._

“Right, now. Do you want to sort first, or catalog?” It would be a huge job either way, judging by the size and current disorganization of the collection.  
“Ehhr,” Eridan was casting a doubtful eye on the shelves. “Sort, I guess, so there’s less to catalog?”  
“All right. It’s mostly up to personal choice, so you’ll need to double-check the things I pull. General guidelines…don’t keep anything that’s outdated, especially science; you want the latest knowledge.” He inclined his head toward his master. “As you seem to be a historian, I’d be all right having a shelf somewhere dedicated to such expired views, so long as it’s clearly marked as being for entertainment purposes only. What else…well, obviously, toss anything that’s dirty or damaged,” he held up a forestalling hand, “With, again, the _possible_ exception of historical artifacts – the contents are irreplaceable, or someone important bled on it, sort of thing. Stuff with water damage and mold should go, without question – you can start a list of books you need to replace, if it turns out to be an issue. Also, duplicate copies of things should be weeded out, but don’t worry about it too much if you’re not sure; once everything’s cataloged, they’ll be obvious.”

Eridan had opened his husktop and was poking around on it, evidently taking notes. “Got it,” he said, moments later. “So wwe’re just checkin’ usefulness and condition for noww.”  
“And, of course, if you come across anything you don’t really want to _have_ in your collection anymore, feel free to get rid of it.”  
Dualscar rambled on while considering the job at hand. Generally, cooperating on a project could help diffuse tempers, so long as everyone was working toward the same goal; obvious progress would lift spirits all around. However, since they were working on one room at a time, it would be somewhat troublesome to keep Ψ and his master far enough apart that they wouldn’t irritate each other further instead.

“Eridan, do you know if parts of your collection are water damaged?”  
Eridan shook his head. “Not that I knoww of.”  
“Hmm. It’s still a rather damp environment; won’t hurt to check.” He turned to Ψ. “Ψ, would you be so kind as to pull out each book and check it over for us?” He picked up a nearby volume to demonstrate. “Just ruffle the pages and make sure they flex and turn cleanly, and aren’t sticking together, and that the covers aren’t warped. You could also give ‘em a quick sniff to check for mold, but if they’re obviously fuzzy, don’t even bother! If you find any kind of damage, just pile up those books over here by the desk, please.”

Ψ floated up to the top of the shelf nearest the door, and began yanking out books two at a time, rapidly flipping their pages with twin _fffft_ sounds, snapping them shut and shoving them back into place. “Be careful wwith those!” Eridan pleaded, wide-eyed. “Some a’ them are really old an’ fragile!”  
“Really old?” Ψ turned to him with interest. “Ath old ath Dee?”  
Eridan shrank a bit. “Wwell, maybe…a few? An’ some that’re almost?”  
“Fine, fine,” said Ψ, satisfied. “I’ll be ath gentle ath I am with him.” There was just a hint of emphasis on the final word as Ψ slowed his work dramatically, treating the books with exaggerated care. Dualscar tried to engage his master before he could find fault with anything else. 

“Why don’t you start by setting up the catalog? Sometimes knowing how things will be sorted can help you pick out what will fit in, and what won’t.”  
Eridan flicked his fins uncertainly, glancing back to Ψ. _He’s trying to focus on me, like he wants to, but his body detects a nearby threat, and his brain’s occupied with that._ Dualscar stepped around to face Eridan across the desk, blocking his view of the door (and Ψ), and noted the minute relaxation in his posture; _yes, that’s better._ “Wwhat – wwhat do you mean?” he said, no longer distracted.

“Well, bring up your database program, or your spreadsheet, whatever you’re planning to use,” Dualscar began. “Then just starting typing anything you want to be able to sort by into columns. Like author, title, things like that. If you want size, page count, date of publication, note those down too. It’ll mean more work while you’re cataloging, but it makes the catalog more _useful_ , in the long run. Hell, I’ve known places that sorted, or at least tracked, the color of the covers, and found it really handy as an aid for forgetful readers!”  
“So. Start cataloging noww, you think?”  
Dualscar shook his head. “Not yet. Just set up the catalog first. Otherwise, you’ll think of something else you wanted to include after you’re fifty books in, and you’ll have to go back and redo them.”  
Eridan snorted a tiny laugh, making Dualscar smile; _success._ “Makes sense.”  
“You might want to include a summary, too, or at least keywords,” Dualscar offered. “The title alone isn’t always helpful when you’re trying to find the book with the ghost pirate zombie cannibals.”

Eridan rolled his eyes. “That’s like, _three different series!_ Or no, wwait,” he amended, “there’s also the one wwith the rainbow drinker pirates, but I don’t remember if _they_ wwere ghost zombies, too.”  
“I think I read one where the pirate ghosts were trying to protect people from their reanimated pirate zombie cannibal bodies.” Dualscar cocked his head. “Or no, maybe that was a short story? Unpublished?”  
“Regardless!” Eridan had booted up his chosen program and was typing away. “If I havve it, it’ll turn up.”

“Where do you draw the line on thtuff like that?” Ψ asked idly from across the room. Dualscar relaxed, glancing back over his shoulder. _Good, he sounds less on edge now._  
“Personally, _I_ draw the line at _robot_ zombies, because I find the concept frankly ridiculous. There’s no flesh to reanimate! Robot pirates are fine, though.”  
“Or ghost robots?” Eridan asked without looking up.  
“Ghost robot pirates, even.” Dualscar straightened up slowly, stretching a sore back. “I just need to step out for a minute – use the bathroom, maybe grab a snack,” he added, at Eridan’s questioning glance. “You want anything?”

Eridan shook his head, and gave him a brief grin as Dualscar patted his shoulder before heading for the door. Dualscar made sure to give Ψ the same attention on his way by. Ψ turned to him, making a _hmm?_ noise. “No, you two go on working. You’re making great progress!” Ψ was nearing the bottom of the first big bookcase. “I’ll be right back.”  
He stopped in the galley on the way back; he didn’t really want any food, but something to share might get him a smile or two. He filled a small bowl with a dried fruit-nut mix, good for mindlessly munching while working.

“Want some? I know you missed dessert with lunch, since I didn’t make anything, and this is a little sweet.”  
Dualscar held the bowl up; Ψ was working on the top shelf of the second bookcase. He dropped down for a sniff.  
“What ith it? Nutth?”  
“Nuts an’ dried fruit,” Dualscar announced proudly. Ψ levitated a small bit of something yellow into his mouth and chomped down around it experimentally. His face brightened with an “Mmm!” as he rolled the fruit around on his tongue before swallowing it.  
They were awfully close together, Dualscar noticed, as his master looked up from his seat at the desk. He took a step back and fished out a lobe of walnut. “Catch!”  
Ψ snapped his teeth neatly around the tossed tidbit, grinning.  
“If you chew on it, you’ll be able to taste it better,” Dualscar chided, fishing out another piece. “Here, try this, it’s a dried cherry-“  
Ψ leaned over and engulfed the offering, along with part of the hand that held it. Dualscar laughed, self-conscious, as Ψ licked and sucked and nibbled at his fingertips. 

_”Oh._ Ahaha.” Dualscar shivered in pleasure. _Mmm, that does feel nice._  
Finally, Ψ backed off in order to chew, giving the hand a few tiny kisses in parting without releasing it from his grasp.  
The endorphins wore off with disappointing speed, leaving Dualscar to the realization that _his master was watching them (shameless display) (showoff how close you are)_ \- At once, he tried to distance himself, but Ψ still held his hand. Sickeningly, the worry of _my master will be angry_ only made him crave Ψ’s sweet attentions more.  
Dualscar’s fins snapped back, momentarily annoyed by the prying eyes. _I want a hug/I want him to hug me._ Ψ’s expression flickered, a brief furrowing of brow. Dualscar tugged at his trapped hand, too proud to make it look like an effort.  
“Let _go_ ,” he insisted, hiding his panic behind anger, _let go let go please let go of me -_  
There wasn’t a convenient way out this time; none of them had a real reason to leave the room. Reluctantly, he felt himself grow ever more frantic. _I needwant to leave/escape (the situation) -_  
“Dee. Look at _me._ ”  
Hesitantly, he looked up. Ψ’s eyes were hard, his mouth a firm line.

“I know you’re not OK with giving _me_ what you think should be going to _him._ I get that, I really do.” The odd calm of Ψ’s voice was betrayed by the way small loose objects in Dualscar’s peripheral vision began levitating. “But if I can’t even give you any” – he spat a word like a burst of static, unintelligible – “ _thmoocheth_ , I’m going to get _very upthet!_ ”  
Dualscar fought desperately for calm. “Ψ, I want” _don’t want_ “you to let go.” _Nono please no!_  
Ψ screeched, a frustrated sound like metal grating on metal.”DAMMIT! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!”

Books exploded off the shelves; the room was suddenly filled with flying hardbacks and viciously zipping pens. Dualscar froze. Eridan fell out of his chair and was hidden behind the desk. _Is he all right?_ Ψ continued screeching, now tugging at his hair with both hands. He might have been screaming something, but Dualscar couldn’t make out the words. The books continued their erratic orbits, joined by some heavy-looking and probably quite expensive decorative objects. Dualscar took a breath and scrambled for the desk, arriving just as Eridan abandoned it and made a break for the corner of the room. _Oh good, he’s okay._

“Ah, shit. _Shit._ ” The books and assorted knickknacks dropped abruptly to the floor. Dualscar jumped as a heavy volume hit the desk above him. He poked his head up over it and saw Ψ rubbing his face into his metal hands. “Shit. I’m thorry. I – I made a meth –“  
Eridan whimpered, and Dualscar whipped his head around to see the boy cowering in a narrow space between bookshelves. _A hidden doorway?_ Ψ snapped back into anger. “Thith ith all YOUR FAULT!”  
“Ψ.” Dualscar tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, but it still felt wobbly. “Please calm down.”  
“I’m calm, all right? I am bloody CALM!”  
“Your hair’s still standing on end,” Dualscar pointed out timidly.  
With a great sigh, Ψ settled; his feet touched the floor again, and the feeling of _pressure/threat_ dissipated. His hair was still staticky, but no longer seemed to be lifted by a nonexistent breeze. Behind Dualscar, Eridan shuddered and slid down the wall into a heap on the floor.

“Ψ. Please, just…” Dualscar rubbed his forehead. “Step out for a few minutes. Go up to the deck and get some air, or down to the galley and make some tea, take a nap, _anything,_ just _go._ Just for a little while, okay? Just for now. And don’t go far.” He managed a weak smile, which Ψ returned before turning and floating out the door without another word.  
With one worry gone for the moment, _(out of sight, out of mind)_ , Dualscar drew a deep, steadying breath _(still shaky)_ , and began the laborious process of righting both himself and the room.

“Well,” he announced at last into the room’s sudden silence. “I suppose it’s just as well that happened _before_ we’d gotten the books in order, hmm?” The joke fell flat, as expected, but Eridan uncurled and sat up enough to look at him. Dualscar turned toward the shelves, and lowered himself carefully next to one of the bigger piles of spilled books. “Let’s just get things back on the shelves for now, without worrying too much about what goes where. We’ll get it all sorted eventually, after all.”

He began turning books around, lining up their spines, and putting them back in ones and twos wherever he could find a gap. Behind him, he heard Eridan get up and start shifting books around as well; they were approaching each other from opposite ends of the same shelf. Soon they were working side by side.  
“I hope you weren’t too badly upset by that display,” Dualscar started to say. Eridan shook his head.  
“Not like that, anywway. I mean, it wwas alarmin’, all right, but the books wweren’t hittin’ anythin’. You didn’t get hit, right?” he said, going suddenly solicitous.  
Dualscar shook his head to ease his worries, and gave the boy a smile. _Is he putting on a brave face for my sake? He still sounds and looks shakier than he’s saying, but then again, so do I. It’d likely be rude to point it out, though._  
“I’vve probably throwwn wworse tantrums myself. But it still bothered me. I thought you said he had complete control of his powwers?”  
“His powers, yes. Himself…not so much, I’m afraid. But that’s what I’m here for, don’t worry.”  
_It’ll be all right. It’ll work out._  
_(It has to.)_  
For a few moments, they shoved books back onto shelves without speaking.

“Dualscar,” Eridan began softly, fins drooping, “I don’t mean to be rude, an’ you can correct me if I’m wwrong, but – he’s not all _there_ , is he?”  
Dualscar nodded slowly, and chose his words with care. “Aye. He left the bulk of himself behind.”  
His – master? faltered and stared at him, mess forgotten, as he continued quietly. “He probably didn’t have time to load all the memories he’d want to keep back into his head, and in any case he’d been part of the ship so long it was like a body to him. So, yes. What we’ve got here isn’t the whole of him, but I’m given to understand it’s the only part left extant.” 

He plucked the last of the books from Eridan’s unresisting fingers and stacked them neatly, then struggled to his feet and offered Eridan a hand up. “Don’t worry too much, though. He didn’t so much lose his mind as deliberately abandon it. There probably wasn’t a lot else worth salvaging besides what he’s got saved in his actual brain. And consider this, too: Even in the best circumstances, a goldblood’s memory is only built to hold about fifty sweeps’ worth. By now, his has been written and rewritten over so many times that it’s quite corrupted.”

Eridan grimaced as he rose. “That ‘corruption’ wwhy he’s got such a dirty mind?”  
Dualscar smiled indulgently. “No, he’s always been that way, I believe.” That reminded him of another important point. “Please, don’t mind too much when he sasses you. _She_ liked it, so she let him keep the saucy attitude for her entertainment. I guess she found something amusing in being given lip by someone so far below her as to almost not be a person anymore. He does it automatically now, to anything with fins, but if you let him get to know you as a person he’ll, well, not _stop_ , but at least tone it down a bit?” He flapped his fins uncertainly. Then he caught himself doing it, flattened them against his face briefly, and consciously let them fan open to their neutral position again.

“That’th not why,” Ψ said quietly, a little later; he hadn’t been hard to find, having hidden just around the corner, in Dualscar’s room. “After a while, I didn’t really hate theadwellerth with any particular pathion; it wath jutht a thing to thay. Becauthe…ath long ath I wath _mouthy_ , it meant I wath thtill young and had a lot of fight left in me. But ath I aged it…didn’t theem worth it anymore? I gueth I mellowed. Mellow. Will mellow, I mean.”  
“Ah.” Dualscar put in. “I begin to see.”  
Ψ swallowed uncomfortably. “Tho when I thtopped thwearing and jeering at everything, she knew, it wath time…”  
“For you to die and live again,” Dualscar filled in. Ψ nodded, trembling, and slowly collapsed into his arms.

_What’s it like?_ Dualscar had asked, a total of _once_ , when he was younger, more foolish, less cautious with his tongue. (And who would _want_ to be young again, he thought, so awkward and stupid, perpetually bumbling through life?)  
Ψ had answered him simply, _It hurtth._  
(He could only imagine the pain of having those poisoned moments poured all through him, choking on stolen time, but it made him shudder and curse his poet’s soul that he _could_ imagine it so readily.) 

Ψ spoke again when his face was half-buried in Dualscar’s shoulder. “You’re right, you know. She liked it, hateful woman. She alwayth looked tho… _dithappointed_ when I didn’t thwear at her.” He was silent a moment as Dualscar rubbed his back. “Like, her fathe jutht _fell_ , and I’d get thith _twinge_ like I wanted to apologithe, and I’d hate mythelf for dithappointing her, and then I’d hate mythelf for caring that I’d dithappointed her, and I’d get all moody and deprethed and then she’d _really_ know thomething wath wrong with me –” Ψ’s voice rose hysterically.  
“Shh, shh, shh,” coaxed Dualscar, holding Ψ as he tried to flail. “Don’t beat yourself up about it now. It’s over and done with. Shh, never again.” Ψ clung and twined about him like a thin and needy vine; he was, in his own way, saying _mine, mine, mine._ Dualscar breathed reassurance in his ear until he calmed.

Eridan passed by the open doorway for about the third time in five minutes. Dualscar gave a short chuckle. “I think he’s trying to keep an eye on us. Silly dear. We’re _fine!_ ” he called more loudly, moving toward the door to meet Eridan as he came back down the hall again. _And where the heck was he going to go in that direction, up on deck?_ “Ψ’s calmed down.” Ψ uncoiled himself with obvious distaste. He hissed when Eridan raised an eyebrow at his foot-dragging; Dualscar raised a hand to forestall the snap of teeth that typically followed such a display.

On the pretense of starting dinner, Dualscar escaped to the galley, winning himself a peaceful hour alone by his insisitance that he didn’t need any help, no, _neither_ of you, thank you, you stay _here,_ or at least go somewhere _else_ that _isn’t_ the galley, please. They wouldn’t need to eat anytime soon, though, so he made sure to choose a meal involving a lot of prep work so his excuse would hold water. The mindless work of peeling and chopping vegetables went a long way toward settling him back on an even keel. He put the last half-pound of brown rice on to steam; they’d plenty of the white, but Ψ ought to have healthier foods while he was still weak.

As he was adding it to his new shopping list _(pickles/dried fruit/whole grain flour/brown rice)_ , Ψ stuck his head in the door. “Lookth like you’ve made progreth,” he said appreciatively. “Mind if I come in?”  
“Mmm,” Dualscar thought it over, resolve wavering, “all right, I guess.” He supposed he could turn on the radio instead to banish the too-quiet atmosphere, now that he’d stopped moving long enough to notice it, but it wouldn’t be the same as actually having people around. _Something for him to do -_ “Will you poke around the cupboards for the loaf pans? They’re rectangles, open on one big side.” He outlined the shape with his hands. “I want to make some bread.”

The dough came together nicely, with a lovely yeast smell. Ψ hummed contentedly to himself as he rubbed an oiled cloth around the insides of all the pans. Dualscar felt _safe_ again, in the way he wished would last forever. He set the dough to rise on the warm stove, and joined Ψ at the table just as he set down the last finished pan.  
“Did you get all the corners?” he teased, leaning over as if to check Ψ’s work. For once, they could just _be_ together, and not fret about being seen, or overheard, or making someone jealous.  
“You thmell good,” Ψ told him appreciatively. “What ith that?”  
“Yeast, probably.” He took a seat beside Ψ, giving him a look of great fondness. “I hope you’ll start passing solids soon, so I can feed you anything without worrying about the state of your guts -”

Ψ grinned at him, shifted forward, laid a gentle metal hand on his knee, and that was _it_ , he’d had _enough_ of waiting. Dualscar fairly launched himself into Ψ’s lap, tackling his face in an enthusiastic lip-lock. When there came, moments later, a strangled sound from the doorway behind him, he didn’t even bother to turn around. Instead, he pulled back and looked sadly at Ψ.  
“You did that on _purpose_ ,” he accused.  
Ψ gave him a smile, so gentle, and the arms around him were gentle too, though not soft. Finally Dualscar turned to call over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Eridan –”

To his surprise, Eridan had not absconded this time. He was, instead, stalking forward, a growl filling the air. From Ψ, there came not so much an answering growl as the near-inaudible high rising whine of a capacitor charging, and Dualscar flinched. He didn’t get far, still encircled by Ψ’s prosthetics.  
“Ψ, let go,” he began, tentative.  
“No, I won’t. Thith needth doing.”  
_Yes,_ Dualscar’s thought unhappily, _it does._ He couldn’t stop clinging to Ψ; for whose protection, it was impossible to say.

“Let him _go_ ,” Eridan growled (not very imposing, without an adult voicebox behind it.) In response, Ψ merely spread his arms, leaving Dualscar clinging to him without support.  
“You theem to think that I’m holding him againtht hith will.”  
“He’s been tryin’ to get free of you since wwe _got_ here!”  
“Really? You think tho? Well, let’th _athk_ him. Becauthe I don’t think you’re theeing the whole picture yet.”  
Dualscar burrowed closer, attempting to hide his face in Ψ’s side, unable to look at either of them, until he felt a thin, hard hand touch him softly. Ψ was happy (approaching smug, actually), and that helped; he returned his arms to hugging position, and that helped more. After a moment, Dualscar lifted his head to meet Ψ’s smile.  
“Dee,” Ψ asked quietly, “do you not want me here, either right now or in general?”  
At first, Dualscar couldn’t answer.

“You wished you could alwayth be with me, onthe. Or wath that a lie?”  
_He thinks he’s misremembering._ Dualscar tried to reassure Ψ without going too far. “No. You’re right, I did.” _Not that I don’t?_ he thought; Ψ’s face fell as Dualscar struggled to connect tone and meaning so that neither of his listeners would doubt his loyalty. He tried to sound light. “You’re with me now, aren’t you? Because I wanted – I asked to have you here. So I could look after you.”  
“And how long until he can look after _himself?_ ” Eridan complained.  
“Oh, pith off, ya brat –“  
“I already AM pissed off!”

They bristled, trading harsh words and accusations; it seemed they’d _never_ stop arguing above his head. “No,” Dualscar breathed, quiet and sad. _This isn’t what I want._ “Won’t you stop fighting? You don’t need to – it’s not worth –“  
He flinched as Eridan turned his angry glare toward him. “You _are_ wworth it!”  
_”Damn thtraight!”_  
“I – but –“ Dualscar’s voice trembled. “What are you fighting _for?_ ”  
_“You!”_ they both answered at once, insistant. Dualscar slumped against the cage of Ψ’s arms.  
“If the two of you are both serious about wanting to help me,” he took a deep, shaky breath, “how about _not fighting?_ That would make my life a lot less stressful, please-and-thank-you.”  
There was some shame-faced shuffling of feet at this pronouncement; for a moment, neither of the combatants would meet his eyes.  
“Thorry, Dee.”  
“Sorry,” Eridan muttered, obviously not about to let the subject drop.

“Wwhat are you to each other, anywway?”  
“I don’t understand the question,” Dualscar dodged. _Does he think I have quadrants?_  
“Like - wwhen you said you wwanted ta talk to him alone, wwhat did you mean?”  
“What’s to mean?” Dualscar spread his hands beseechingly. “We talk with our _mouths_!”  
Ψ poked him.  
“On each other’s _mouths!” Dammit!_ “What is it you want me to say?”  
Eridan slumped in a chair and rested his head on his hands, his glare a challenge. “Just say you wwanna kiss him. If that’s wwhat you really wwant.”  
Dualscar’s mouth snapped shut. He started to panic as his words deserted him at the worst possible time; his fins flapped wildly, out of rhythm with each other.

“If he _’wantth’_ thomething, you can refuthe him.”  
Dualscar turned and clung to Ψ, an unexpected lifeline. Ψ stroked carefully at his back, still addressing Dualscar’s master.  
“I don’t think you _underthtand_ how eathily you could wreck him. But _he_ ” (he nodded sharply towards Dualscar) “ _doeth._ He’th not going to _hand you_ a chain to put on him, or a thtick you can hit him with. We’ve got bad handth and a lot of thkin in the game; can you blame uth for playing it clothe?”  
“Close to the vest,” Dualscar finished for him. “Oh, Ψ. Don’t leave me.” That was about as close as he could come to a confession at the moment.  
Ψ cupped Dualscar’s chin to turn his face up. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you alone. And that’th a promithe,” he drawled at - Eridan. “Maybe you can throw _me_ outta your hive, but he’th coming _with_ me if you do.”

Dualscar made an unhappy noise, eyes shut tight. _I don’t want to leave. I like this place._ Ψ nuzzled him, understanding.  
“I don’t _want_ to leave Eridan,” Dualscar confessed aloud, mostly for Eridan’s benefit. He felt better for having said it, though, as if his words were closing a door he didn’t want to go through.  
“But you wwon’t – can’t be straight wwith me, either?” Eridan said, still sounding antagonized.  
Dualscar’s fins drooped; he tucked himself in closer to Ψ’s side. “I don’t want you to be jealous and lonely.” _Feeding negative emotions would be bad for both of us._ “That’s why I hide it.”  
“Showw me,” Eridan challenged, “Wwhat you’d do if I _wwasn’t_ here.”  
Dualscar felt himself start to blush; firmly, he held his fins in to keep them from flapping. _Stop it, silly. He doesn’t need to see everything._ He stood up and took a step away from both of them, becoming his own little island of not-quite-calm.

Dualscar cleared his throat and turned away from his master. ( _Rude/followingorders?_ ) _No, shh, it’s all right. He’s not here right now; he said so._  
“Ψ, come here.” He could do this, he told himself; he’d had plenty of practice in other contexts. “’I want to kiss you.’”

At once, Ψ was in his arms, and they shared a passionate embrace, and even more passionate smooches ( _mmm, yum._ ) Dualscar licked at Ψ hungrily, greedily, wanting more, and more he got; Ψ lifted him off the floor so their mouths could reach more easily. For long moments, Eridan was ignored, exactly as requested.  
Eventually, there was a throat-clearing noise, a shuffling of feet. Dualscar made a small growl of protest as Ψ set him back down, though he could no longer claim to be unsatisfied. His hormones warred with his common sense, demanding he _cling_. Ψ attempted a butt grab with no real force behind it. Dualscar launched a tickle attack in retaliation.  
“All right, that’s _enough_ ,” said Eridan, obviously uncomfortable; he didn’t seem to be able to meet their eyes, or give them more than sidelong glances until he was sure they’d stopped. “I get it, okay. _Sheesh._ ”

Ψ placed a metal hand on Dualscar’s shoulder possessively.  
“Tho now you’re okay with it?”  
Eridan jumped to his feet to face Ψ. “No! I am still vvery much _not_ okay wwith it, that looked _forced_ -“  
“Of _courthe_ it wath forthed, you _ordered_ him! That doethn’t make it _inaccurate!_ ”  
As an argument ostensibly about him resumed without his input, Dualscar bristled, feeling his temper flare at the exclusion. This _had_ to stop. “Do _not_ fight in” _my_ “the galley!” Dualscar managed to keep from roaring, barely, but it still came out as a brittle demand, rather than a polite request. He pointed fiercely, and tried to improve his tone. “If you two _must_ fight, do it in the hall, if you please.”

Ψ drooped a bit, and did a sort of backstep in midair; he had been looming over Eridan unnecessarily. “Thorry. Thorry, Dee, I forgot. C’mon,” he tugged Eridan inexorably toward the door by one arm, causing the boy to screech and thrash fruitlessly, “he’th right, I forgot. You can’t upthet the cook, it maketh the food tathte bad. He told me before. C’mon, we’ll go. We gotta talk.”  
“And _don’t hurt_ each other!” Dualscar called after them insistently. As if he had some kind of influence over their behavior – well, maybe he had. _How long will they remain cowed from a single threat display? And when will Eridan stop putting up with being threatened in his own home?_ He sighed deeply, covered the bread dough and set it atop the oven to rise, and started cooking up the stir-fry. _They’ll work it out. For now, a few more minutes of peace will have to do._

The food was prepared without further incident, he summoned Ψ and Eridan by dint of shouting out the door that supper was ready, they ate together, and all seemed well for the moment; there were compliments all around at the food, which Dualscar accepted with pride. The air of civility was strained and fragile, though, and broke as soon as the meal ended.  
“Dee, I’m thorry.” Ψ set aside his dishes with a sigh. “But we need to know how you feel about uth.”  
The last bite settled uncomfortably in Dualscar’s stomach. “I thought you two talked,” he said, as calmly as possible.  
“We did, for a bit, before he hid.” Eridan snapped his fins shut, startled, and then spread them wide again, bristling. “But we dethided we needed to hear it from _you_ , to make sure we’ve all got the thame information, and it’th correct.” He spread his hands in a half-shrug of _what can you do._

Yes, Dualscar admitted privately, it was a sound plan. By all accounts, perfectly logical and reasonable. The only trouble was, _what the hell was he supposed to tell them?_  
“I…I’m afraid I don’t have the answer you’re looking for,” he choked out. _Because I don’t know what it is._  
Ψ did a half-facepalm, running his hand from his cheek back to his ear. “Ah, Dee. Don’t be like that.”  
“Like wwhat?” His master – Eridan – was glancing back and forth between them, first with confusion, then with growing suspicion.  
“He’th not thaying –“ Ψ began, waving an arm in exasperation.  
“Because I _really don’t know!”_ Dualscar insisted. He hadn’t had time to sort them out properly, he reasoned; his feelings were a knotted ball of red-white-pink that the two of them had been kicking around until it started turning grey. And tangled around all of it were the familiar layers of _master – loyal – child – mine_ that refused even that vague classification.  
Ψ started to drop his arm, but raised it again to rub at his eyes. “All right. Eathier quethtionth, then.”  
Dualscar shrank back; the look on Ψ’s face demanded answers.  
_No escape_  
_He might back off if I -_  
_\- but the other one -_  
“Dee. Tell uth. How do you feel about me, really?”

“There’s no wwrong answwer,” Eridan offered, before Dualscar could get his thoughts together. He had come around the table, but seemed reluctant to approach too closely, and was standing just out of reach. “So. Don’t wwory you’re gonna be punished for sayin’ wwhat you think. I wwon’t – I wwould _nevver_ hurt you, promise. I just wwant ya t’be honest wwith me.” He sounded – looked – sincere, sad, pleading. _Believe me._  
_He wants me – his ancestor – to trust him. It seems he puts a lot of stock into it, too; it would mean a lot to him._

Dualscar paused for the space of a breath, trying to calm his hammering heart and fluttering nerves. Eridan’s faith in him was reassuring. “I’m - _fond_ of you, Ψ.”  
“And how do you feel about _Eridan?_ ”  
He froze; drew another breath, shakier this time.  
“I –” Were there words for it? “I _like_ him,” he finished lamely. “I care about him.”  
“But you’re not _attracted_ to him?” Ψ insisted.  
Dualscar turned aside, unable to meet their eyes. “I – wouldn’t say that,” he mumbled. “But!” he continued desperately. “I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to him either – to you,” he insisted, turning toward his master, “if that’s what you wanted of me.”

His master gave a slight head-shake. “That’s not – I _don’t_ want to,” he admitted. Then he did something strange: he sank down to his knees to reach out to where Dualscar was cringing in his chair between them, and took his hand.  
_He’s so small,_ thought Dualscar, in the moment before Eridan spoke.  
“Neither of us wwants anythin’ more from you than you wwant to givve us,” he proclaimed. Then he raised his voice. “An’ neither of us is gonna start anythin’ wwith you, got it?” He shot a glare back up at Ψ as he got to his feet again.

“Tho, wait,” Ψ began. “What if he -”  
Eridan started to reply, but his mouth suddenly snapped shut; he made a startled squeaking noise, and his hands flew to his jaw.  
“Shut up, kiddo, I’m _thtill talking._ I’m gonna athk you a quethtion, okay? ‘What if _Dee_ thartth it?’ And I want the nektht wordth out of your mouth to be either ‘yeth, of courthe Dee can have sekth with _whoever he wantth to_ , if they’re agreeable,’ or ‘no, he’th only allowed to have sekth with _me.’_ Got it?” Eridan shook once, sharply, evidently from Ψ’s influence; he nodded frantically, then sent a beseeching look to Dualscar.

Desparately, Dualscar tried to read his face; mostly, the boy just looked _scared_ , tiny tears forming in his eyes. _What does he want me to say, to do? For that matter, what do I want him to say? Frankly, I’d just as soon have the whole thing out in the open, whatever the outcome. I can’t take the stress of hiding from him for much longer._

Eridan wrenched his jaw back open, and took a few deep breaths. “I thought he wwasn’t supposed to havve sex wwith _anyone_ wwhile he’s carryin’ eggs,” he said in a small voice. “But no, I don’t wwanna havve sex wwith him. I’m sorry if I didn’t answwer your question right,” he mumbled, and drew back, cowering against the corner of the table as Ψ loomed over him, scowling.

That was either…half an answer, or an answer and a half. However, now was _not_ a good time to press; Eridan was already desparately unhappy. _He’s not saving me for his own needs, then; that’s good to know, although it probably raises more questions than it resolves._ Dualscar gave a sort of mental shrug as he waved Ψ off and went to comfort Eridan. He drew Eridan’s face into his side, offering part of his coat as a protective barrier against the world, and allowing the boy to wipe his face on a part of Dualscar’s shirt that wouldn’t show. Soothingly, he began plying his comb again; Eridan relaxed readily under his hands.  
“Shh, now. Of course you don’t have to do anything you don’t want. Ψ’s just…oversexed, is all. But since you’ve made it clear you don’t want him to start anything, he won’t. All right? I’m safe, for now. You don’t have to worry about me so.

“That goes for you too,” said Dualscar, raising his head. “You needn’t feel as if you have to protect me, either. I can handle myself, and more.” _Like both of you._  
Ψ floated around in small anxious circles, wearing a look of uncertainty. “Don’t feel obligated, Dee,” he said softly.  
“Obligation, my eye!” Dualscar retorted. “If you’re in a bad way, I’m going to fuss over you, like it or not. And you’re still on the mend, so you’ve got a good deal more fussing to look forward to!” Not really the point, but something he felt willing to admit. _”Now._ Are we settled? There’s baked apples keeping warm in the oven.”

The two made peace for as long as it took Ψ to eat dessert; Eridan growled loudly when Ψ appeared to be eyeing his, and attempted to pull his bowl out of reach, nearly burning his hand on the still-hot dish. Dualscar had had _enough_ of both food and inconsiderate company.  
“Quit… _prickling_ at each other, dammit! No _wonder_ it’s so uncomfortable in here!”  
They were both distracted enough to turn toward him in surprise, at least. He kept up the momentum.  
“Eridan! _Knock off the static!_ I _know_ you’re only tryin’ to fend him off, but it won’t work because he’s _not actually electrical_ , and you’re just makin’ him feel all itchy and panicky! And Ψ! You do _not_ need that much of your attention in here! Pick over the beach, or something, if you please.”

He slumped back in his seat, spent, as the tension drained slowly from the room, leaving behind only a normal atmosphere of three people eating together. Eridan seemed gamely determined to finish his apple. Dualscar picked at the remains of his own before offering it to Ψ. “Want some?”  
“Oh, well, I thuppothe,” Ψ said eagerly, reaching for the dish with his spoon in one outstretched metal hand.  
Eridan muttered something under his breath.  
“Hmm?” Ψ asked, stuffing apple in his mouth as he turned back toward Eridan all too eagerly - _still looking for a fight, dammit!_  
“I said, you’re bein’ greedy –“  
“Oh, GREEDY! That’th rich, a _theadweller_ calling _me GREEDY!_ ”  
“You’re gettin’ the best ‘a’ evverythin’ already –“  
“I’m getting _thcrapth and catht-offth_ , thame ath _alwayth!_ ”  
“I’m just sayin’ you don’t _need_ more –“  
Ψ hissed; he looked coiled for a strike. “Lick my battery, you fish-faced little-!” 

Dualscar’s patience was worn unnaturally thin and brittle; he snapped. “Both of you, OUT!” He made a peremptory shooing motion with both hands; the combatants fell quiet and moved toward the door with Ψ-assisted smoothness. “And STAY OUT!” he shouted at their backs as they retreated down the hallway, and then immediately regretted it. He’d never get anything settled this way, least of all himself. If he tried washing dishes in this state, he was sure to break something and upset himself further. “Wait – wait, _stop,_ ” he called after them, stepping into the hall. When he had their attention, he beconed them back into the galley with a tired wave of his hand. “Come back, please.”

“Just... _listen._ And I’ll try to tell you.” Dualscar slumped in a chair as the other two drifted back in uncertainly and took seats opposite him. “I won’t ever lie to you, but I can’t always say what I want to. The words won’t come, or my thoughts get tangled – you know.” Ψ was nodding.

“You ask me...how I feel, and it’s like…like you’re asking if I _like_ you, or rather _which_ of you I like, as if you’re asking me to _choose_ , and I _can’t_ ,” he said. “It’s not…like I could say _no_ to one of you.” He shook his head. “I would not, for all the world, reject you, Eridan.” It felt too final; he turned at once. “Nor _you,_ Ψ!” He stumbled, shrinking back from their regard. “I…”  
_selfish_  
“…I want…”  
_greedy_  
“… _both_ of you,” he whispered. “I want you both to stay here with me,” _and be mine, mine, **mine!** Forever!_  
He shut his eyes so he couldn’t see their faces. “I don’t want to leave Eridan,” he confessed. “And I don’t want to be without Ψ.”

There was a rattle-scrape sound, as Ψ extended a hand across the table towards him, but stopped short of actually touching him.  
_Oh. He’s being good, holding back like Eridan said._ Without opening his eyes, Dualscar patted towards where he’d heard Ψ’s hand, finding it within a couple of pats. He smiled - _thank you, Ψ -_ and, opening his eyes, directed the smile toward his master.  
“Eridan? I’m worn out. May I have a hug?”  
“Er! Um, sure!”  
As Eridan scrambled to his feet, Dualscar swept cleanly around the table to meet him, and bent down to wrap his arms around him. When he felt answering arms wrap around his sides, he simply picked the boy up, turned around, and plopped himself down in Ψ’s lap.  
_Ah, that’s better._ Dualscar let out a contented sigh, and began petting at Eridan’s back soothingly; he’d gone stiff at the unexpected movement. Ψ wrapped metal arms around both of them, careful to avoid touching Eridan directly. Dualscar nuzzled shyly at Eridan’s earfin.  
“I’m sorry. I haven’t got much lap for you to sit on just now, but this way you can stay on your feet and I won’t strain my back.”  
Ψ nestled his chin into Dualscar’s hair, carefully avoiding his horns. Dualscar couldn’t see his face, but between the mumbly noises Ψ was making (pleased, possessive) and his scent (sly, lusty) he could just picture Ψ’s joyful smirk. He mmrred _Pleased_ back at Ψ, letting his lover surround his senses.  
There was a piece of Eridan in there, too, but smaller; still, Dualscar didn’t want his presence to be totally blotted out. He bumped Ψ’s arms away from his front, so that Eridan stood free of him.  
“There. That’s better. Let’s all just listen to the waves for a minute, hey?”

They did. As the slow _shhhh, shhhh_ marked the passage of time, it felt like things were _finally_ settling down. “I propose a new hive rule,” said Dualscar, “simply put, ‘no fighting in the galley.’ No _sex_ in here, either; that’s a separate rule.” As Eridan failed to shoot down the idea immediately, Dualscar gave him a good squeeze, pleased all over to be getting his way for once, “I’m sorry if you had plans for this table, but _I_ have plans for it that don’t include having to sanitize it thoroughly before eating off of it every time you have company over. You’ll have to fulfill your foodplay fantasies elsewhere.” He pulled back, considering. “Assuming you have any.”  
Eridan looked calmer, too. “That’s fine,” he agreed. “Er. No, I…havven’t?” He side-eyed Ψ (an impressive feat, considering they were facing each other directly), but as Ψ made no objection, it seemed the motion had passed: the galley was now a “safe space” for all.

Eridan left as soon as he could manage to squirm free, leaving his dishes behind, as usual. Dualscar was surprised, however, after he’d cleaned up and put away the leftovers, to find Eridan had brought his husktop into the... (postprandial lounge? The room where they always seemed to wind up, now. _Goodness, this is becoming a habit_ ), as if he were _waiting_ for them. He shrank back as they entered, tucking his fins in close. _Like he thinks he won’t be welcome here?_ Dualscar felt a sudden wave of fondness wash over him.  
“May we join you?” Dualscar asked rather redundantly, as Ψ was already attempting to cover as much couch as possible and beckoning him over.  
“Sure.” Eridan gave him a smile he could almost trust was genuine. Dualscar smiled warmly back, and, as his floor cushion perch had been returned to the couch, instead draped himself companionably over the back of Eridan’s chair, resisting the urge to nuzzle his hair.  
“Anything you need?” he offered.

Ψ interrupted grumpily.  
“Dee. Thtop trying to make yourthelf thmaller when you’re nektht to him. You look ridiculouth.”  
Eridan glanced back. “Go on an’ sit wwith him,” he suggested, with a sort of false boldness Dualscar couldn’t trace properly. “He needs you.”  
Reluctantly, Dualscar retreated to join Ψ, who hugged him, a greeting he returned gladly. “You’re sure?” he called, still unconvinced.  
“It’s all right,” said Eridan, halfheartedly. “You don’t havve to stick wwith me.”  
_It isn’t really all right, is it?_ Dualscar realized. _You need cuddles as much as I do; we’re both frazzled._ He slung an arm over the back of the couch.  
“Eridan. C’mere.”

Eridan half-turned in his seat, making a sort of _hmm?_ sound. Dualscar waved his arm. “Come _’ere_ , I said.”  
He crossed the fingers of the arm that still held Ψ, as Eridan looked at him, puzzled. _What if he thinks I’m too presumptuous and finally gets mad -_ but Eridan merely got up and walked over obediently.  
“How about a back rub?” Dualscar offered. He put a hand on Eridan’s shoulder, and rubbed in gentle encouragement. _Like this: soft, nice._ “Ah, it doesn’t have to be a sexual thing if you’re not into that. I just thought –“ He heaved a sigh, and glanced away for a moment, regretful. “It’s been a stressful night, and from behind, you look awfully tense still. It’s going to be a terrible strain on your muscles if you don’t loosen up. Let me just work the knots out for you; you’ll feel better, honest.”

He waved nonchalantly at the husktop across the room. “It won’t take too long, and then you can get back to your computering, or whatever.”  
Eridan looked doubtfully at the sofa, but Ψ had already gotten up and...flopped himself into an armchair that Dualscar was certain had been on another floor only moments previous.  
“Ehh…sure, wwhy not,” he said, scratching his head. “No one’s on yet anywway.”  
Dualscar scooted eagerly down to one end of the couch, waving at the free space. “Just lie down here, on your belly, if you please.” He continued babbling merrily away as Eridan followed his instructions, looking faintly amused. “Now, I might wind up sitting on your legs for part of this, so if I’m too heavy, just let me know and I’ll move.”

Still chattering on, Dualscar fussed about, getting Eridan properly positioned. “I’m just going to put my knee between yours to steady myself so’s I don’t fall over. If it’s uncomfortable, just say so an’ I’ll move over to the side. I haven’t got the right sort of face pillow, so just tuck that flat pillow under your breastbone so your head sticks out over the top of it, all right? That way you won’t be smothering in the couch. Now, arms at your sides,” he caught Eridan’s arms and settled them where he wanted them, “and let me know if anything hurts, and I’ll stop.”  
He ran the heels of his hands up either side of Eridan’s spine, in a sort of preparation, to get him used to the idea of what was to come. Eridan shivered, and then relaxed.

Dualscar began the backrub in earnest, starting slow and kneading deep to work the knots out of the muscles. Eridan made small _hnn_ sounds, almost like he was panting.  
_Should I be concerned?_ “Am I hurting you?”  
“No – you’re fine – go on -” Eridan was twitchy, restlessly shifting under his touch, eyes shut tight. He certainly _looked_ uncomfortable, but perhaps he was merely overwhelmed? Dualscar lightened his squeezes, considering.  
“No, don’t hug that pillow. You’re tensing up your shoulders again,” he chided, gently returning Eridan’s arms to his sides. As he ran his palms up and down, he could feel the knobbles of the boy’s spine through his shirt, and it gave him pause: _so thin, so small. So terribly alone._ “Goodness, what a lot of stress you’ve been carrying here.” He kept up the one-sided conversation in an attempt to make the whole business feel less awkward. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you all fixed up.” He dug his fingertips into a set of particularly stubborn knots. Slowly, they unclenched, and Eridan went just that bit more boneless.

Dualscar leaned down as far as he was able – not far, to avoid squashing Eridan with his belly or putting his full weight on the boy’s shoulders – and spoke softly, honey in his words.  
“There, now. Isn’t that better? Just let yourself relax.” _Trust me; I’ll not hurt you._  
Eridan sighed a soft _hmm_ that might have been a reply, but was more likely a simple expression of bliss from the backrub. Turning his head slightly, he began rubbing one fin and cheek against the upholstery.

The husktop made a _bloop_ noise. Eridan blinked and started to push himself up.  
“What’s that?” Dualscar asked, glancing at the screen.  
“Someone’s online,” Eridan explained, looking over the back of the couch, “but I can’t tell who -“ He got up and walked back toward the husktop, making a sudden dive for the chair when he neared it. “Oh! Kar!”

**cA: hi kar  
** **cA: good evvenin**

There was a space of a few minutes before a reply came, during which Eridan anxiously regarded the screen and chewed his lip.

**cG: GOOD DAY, ERIDAN.**

Eridan’s fins drooped; he whined, faintly.

**cA: wwhats wwrong kar**  
**cG: WRONG? WHAT MAKES YOU THINK ANYTHING’S WRONG?**  
**cA: you nevver use my name**  
**cG: NONSENSE. EVERYTHING’S JUST PEACHY KEEN OVER HERE.  
cG: WHY, I SIMPLY LIVE FOR THOSE EVENINGS WHEN, AS SOON AS I OPEN MY HUSKTOP, MY EYES ARE ASSAULTED BY WALLS OF CHEERY YELLOW TEXT.  
cG: HAVING BEEN WOKEN EARLY, INCIDENTALLY, BY THE INCESSANT BEEPING FROM SAID MESSAGES BEING DELIVERED.  
cG: REGARDLESS OF HAVING LEFT THE THING POWERED DOWN. **  
**cA: thats hardly my fault though**  
**cG: OF COURSE! GENIUS HACKERS WILL DO AS THEY PLEASE, AND WE ALL JUST CLUCK AND SHAKE OUR HEADS AT THEIR SHENANIGANS!  
CG: “WHATEVER COULD HAVE POSSESSED HIM,” WE SAY, “TO MAKE HIM THINK THAT THE LATEST BEE IN HIS BONNET IS IN ANY WAY IMPORTANT TO PEOPLE WHO HAVE ACTUAL LIVES?” **  
**cA: yeah  
cA: wwhat can ya do right**  
**cG: SO I HEAR YOU’VE BEEN MAKING DUALSCAR COOK FOR YOU.**

Eridan’s fins snapped back in shock; a moment later, he bristled defensively.

**cA: thats a dirty lie  
cA: an sols a dirty liar  
cA: he just sorta movved in an started cookin  
cA: didnt evven ask first**

Dualscar shrank back, fins snapping shut and eyes widening, a sudden chill of fear settling in his gut. Beside him, Ψ made a querulous noise, shifting back onto the sofa to snuggle up beside him. _Well, it **was** one of the things he highlighted on my list, but maybe that just means he thought it was a more immediate priority than the cleaning._ Dualscar put a steadying hand on Ψ’s shoulder, wishing briefly he could just bury himself in Ψ’s embrace and hide, but no. This was important.

**cA: im sure as hell not gonna stop him if its somethin he wwants to do  
cA: he likes cookin  
cA: i like eatin  
cA: its wwin-wwin**  
**cG: OKAY, I’M GOING TO QUIT FACEPALMING OVER THE THOUGHT THAT YOU CAN’T POSSIBLY BE THAT STUPID, SINCE WE’VE ALL LONG SINCE LEARNED THAT YOU CAN BE AND ARE.  
CG: ONCE AGAIN, I WILL DEIGN TO POINT OUT THE OBVIOUS FOR YOUR BENEFIT, IN THE PROBABLY-VAIN HOPE THAT SOME OF IT WILL PENETRATE YOUR THICK SKULL.  
cG: HE’S BEEN SUBJECT TO THE WHIMS OF OTHERS FOR AGES. RIGHT NOW, IT’S YOUR WHIMS HE’S CONCERNED ABOUT.  
cG: FUCK, YOU’RE THE ONE WHO EXPLAINED IT TO ME!  
cG: WHAT WOULD YOU DO IN HIS PLACE, IF YOUR LIFE WAS CONTROLLED BY SOMEONE YOU BARELY KNEW?  
cG: LIKE…LET’S SAY TAVROS. WHAT IF HE WAS SUDDENLY IN CHARGE OF YOU AND YOU HAD TO LIVE WITH HIM AND DO WHAT HE SAID? **  
**cA: id run awway I guess  
cA: or fight**  
**cG: TRY AGAIN. THIS TIME, BEAR IN MIND THAT HE PROBABLY HAS A HALF-DOZEN FRIENDS WHO CAN COME BEAT YOU UP ANY TIME HE’S DISPLEASED WITH YOU. HE’S GOT BOTH MUSCLE AND LAW ON HIS SIDE.  
cG: YOU’RE STUCK WITH HIM RULING YOUR LIFE. HOW WOULD YOU ACT? **  
**cA: i guess id try to butter him up  
cA: keep him happy an keep out a his wway wwhen hes not**  
**cG: BINGO.**

_Rather crude_ , thought Dualscar, _but not inaccurate._ “You want a backrub too?” he asked Ψ, wanting to keep busy somehow. Ψ brightened, grinning at him. “Just lie down here, then, and I’ll scoot back.”  
While his hands relearned Ψ’s muscles through a layer of fabric, his eyes were free to wander. (And if his hands _also_ happened to wander towards less innocent places, why should Eridan suspect anything? It didn’t change the sound of Ψ’s happy moans.)

**cA: so youre sayin hes just tryin to make me happy  
cA: but i dont think so  
cA: i think he does like cookin  
cA: he looks so happy wwhen someone eats his food  
cA: an of course i alwways tell him its delicious  
cA: cause it is**  
**cG: WELL OF COURSE HE’S GOING TO KEEP DOING IT IF YOU’VE ALREADY MADE IT CLEAR YOU LIKED IT BY PRAISING HIM FOR IT. YOUR OPINION IS PARAMOUNT.**

Dualscar puzzled it over. _Who is this person, that Eridan lets himself be bossed around so?_ Not spade nor club, so - _A heart, or prospective diamond? Well, technically, every heart is a prospective diamond._ Gradually, he remembered: a soft, unbidden _thanks, Kar_ , from a boy who seemed barely able to acknowledge others as thinking entities; a shadow over both of them, carefully not scowling. That let him place his thoughts in a little better order, though details were still sketchy: some sort of commander, possibly self-appointed, not necessarily a quadrant. _Typical middle-management type,_ he thought with a wry grin. _Maybe Eridan doesn’t mind being bossed around, after all._ He leaned on the back of the sofa, chin in one hand, the other running through Ψ’s hair in a gentle scalp massage as he waited for Eridan to finish his conversation. _Take-charge types can be very attractive._

Beneath him, Ψ stirred. “Dee, I don’t feel right,” he said, curling his knees toward his chest; one metal hand rubbed absently at his abdomen.  
“Something to do with your guts?” Dualscar asked, getting a nod in response. “Well, let’s get you to a bathroom until it sorts itself out.”  
It proved, in short order, that there was nothing wrong with Ψ; quite the opposite, in fact.  
“Ugh, thith feelth tho groth.”  
“It may be nasty, but it’s necessary, dear,” Dualscar told him, relieved. “At least now I don’t have to worry so about your meals.”  
“Nooooo,” Ψ protested weakly. “I am _never_ doing thith again.”  
Dualscar only laughed. “Not with me here, certainly, once you’ve got the idea. When you’re feeling settled again, we’ll get you cleaned up, and then go back and see if Eridan’s done letting his friends upset him for the day.”

Eridan shot them a worried glance when they reappeared. “Somethin’ wwrong?”  
“Not at all!” Dualscar told him happily. “Ψ’s guts have proven themselves to be in working order, after all.”  
Eridan shuddered, made a face, and returned his attention to his screen, where the grey harangue continued.

**cG: YOU DIDN’T EVEN ASK IF HE WANTED HIS HAIR CUT, DID YOU?**  
**cA: of course i did and he said it wwas okay**  
**cG: AND YOU, KNOWING HE WAS BLINDLY OBEDIENT TO YOUR WILL, TOOK HIM AT HIS WORD?  
cG: I BET IF YOU’D ASKED HIM IF HE WANTED TO KEEP IT WITH THE SAME INFLECTION HE WOULD’VE AGREED WITH THAT TOO!  
cG: DAMMIT, YOU KNOW HE’S GOING TO SAY WHATEVER HE THINKS YOU WANT TO HEAR TO KEEP YOU HAPPY!  
cG: IT’S GOING TO TAKE SOME ACTUAL *THOUGHT* TO FIGURE OUT WHAT HE REALLY WANTS. USE YOUR PAN FOR ONCE! **  
**cA: but howw can i knoww if he wwont tell me**  
**cG: WATCH HIM. SEE WHAT HE SMILES AT, WHERE HIS EYES ARE WHEN HE’S HAPPY.**

Eridan chewed on his lip before replying. He half-glanced ‘round – Dualscar was careful to give him a neutral _hmm?_ expression, but Eridan only shook his head before turning back to his screen.

**cA: he likes  
cA: psii i think  
cA: an bein smiled at  
cA: i mean i knoww he likes psii he keeps sayin so  
cA: says he likes him and trusts him an all that stuff  
cA: i just  
cA: i wwish he liked me like that  
cA: or not exactly like that but you knoww wwhat I mean**  
**cG: SURPRISINGLY, I PROBABLY KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN BETTER THAN YOU DO.**

Dualscar snuggled Ψ with one eye still on the screen, and his mind running in a dozen directions. On his next trip to the bathroom, he went to the one on the lower level and spent a few minutes rummaging around until he found what he’d been hoping for.  
“Lavender-scented lotion,” he told Ψ, who sniffed the opened top of the bottle appraisingly. “It’s meant to be relaxing.” _Has soothing properties, I’ve heard._  
“Kinda thtrong, ithn’t it?” asked Ψ, pulling back. Dualscar rubbed a dollop into his hands regardless.  
“Will you let me rub your neck and shoulders?” With a sigh of assent, Ψ relaxed back against his chest.  
“Sure, go ahead.”

It was a struggle to hold his arms up so high for very long. “Lean forward a bit more,” Dualscar told Ψ, who did a slow, contented collapse onto the arm of the sofa. His shoulders were even farther away now – Dualscar had to stretch over his back to reach them – but at least their height difference wasn’t getting in the way for the moment. Ψ hummed, a tuneless drone that was his usual answer to a purr. Dualscar hummed happily back, adding a few notes of his own. There was a harsh sigh from Eridan that struck him as the prelude to a sob.  
Slowly, so as not to draw attention, Dualscar raised his head and cast his eyes towards the boy. He didn’t turn his head until he was sure Eridan wasn’t looking their way, but was still focused on something on his screen.

**cA: an im tryin i really am  
cA: i said i would an i intend to do my best by him  
cA: i cant help it if i cant tell wwhat he needs an he wwont or cant tell me  
cA: you knoww i mean wwell kar**  
**cG: I DO. OF COURSE I DO.  
cG: BUT REMEMBER:  
cG: DOWN THE ROAD PAVED WITH YOUR INTENTIONS, GOES DUALSCAR IN A HANDBASKET. **

_Am I really that much of a basket case?_ Dualscar wondered, smiling. _I feel fine._  
Evidently, Eridan was _not,_ though. “Eridan!” Dualscar called gently, and waited as the boy gathered himself and did a slow turn to look at him. _My, he is looking down in the mouth – and fins._ Injecting a cheerful note into his voice, Dualscar made his pitch. “If you’re free for a moment, I didn’t get to finish your back rub earlier.” He cocked his head and fluttered his fins as prettily as he knew how, inviting _come and join me! I want to be near you._

Eridan recoiled as if stabbed, glancing guiltily between Dualscar and his computer. “Um – wwell –“  
Dualscar sat up straight, flaring his fins in sudden concern. “What’s wrong? Did I upset you?”  
“No, it’s – not you,” Eridan yammered. “It’s –“ For a long moment, he just stared at his screen, then, slowly, he buried his face in his hands and seemed to cave in on himself, voice reduced to a whisper. “No, it’s nothin’. I wwould _lovve_ a backrub.”  
Dualscar made to stand, still anxious. “Shall I come to you?”  
“No!” Instantly, Eridan threw up a hand to ward him off, in wide-eyed panic. “No, just – stay there. I’ll be right ovver.” He turned back and typed a few lines of goodbye before…setting his status, or something, it looked like, and going “idle.” Ψ shifted down to one end of the sofa, and curled up in a contented heap.

Gamely, Dualscar resumed his humming as he ran his hands up and down Eridan’s back, more interested in making him feel good than in loosening his muscles for the moment; upset, he stank of sadness, where Ψ would have smelled of stress. _He’s so unhappy,_ Dualscar thought. _Well, I’ll just have to be all the happier to make up for it._  
His hands faltered on the next stroke. _**Can** I be happy enough for three? I’ll have to try._  
There were plenty of things to be pleased with: the warm body hum-purring lazily at his back, the small, trusting form going pliant in his hands. The shiphive, isolated and secure. Small measures of freedom, and possibly larger ones – but he didn’t want to grab at them, lest he misjudge and lose it all. He focused on the rhythmic sound of the waves, rubbing Eridan’s back in time with their soft _shhh, shhh. Slow and steady, now; we’ll get there in due time._ He calmed, enjoying the atmosphere. Under his hands, Eridan settled down by degrees.

Dualscar began bringing more of his weight to bear, kneading at the boy’s back once again. “Mmm,” he murmured, a meaningless sound just to draw Eridan’s attention. “You’ve been putting up with a lot, for my sake, and…I’m grateful. I want you to know that.”  
Eridan let out a sigh, and sort of collapsed, no longer supporting his own neck and shoulders; Dualscar couldn’t tell if it was a genuine release of tension, or merely a gesture of defeat. He rubbed on regardless.

A sound from Eridan’s computer made him look back at it, curious: blue text. Several short lines had arrived, confirming that Ψ’s replacement prosthetics would be available for installation the following evening, before Eridan managed to struggle up off of the couch.  
“Looks like Eq,” he commented, making his way back to the desk. _Good, he sounds a little better._ “He says your new prosthetics’ll be ready tomorroww.”  
“That was quick. What should I make for breakfast?” Dualscar asked. “Something filling, I suppose, if we’re getting up early to make a long trip.” _I wonder how long we’ll be gone. Would it be insulting to pack a lunch?_  
Eridan appeared not to have heard him; he nibbled thoughtfully on one of his claws. “Shit, that’s kinda short notice. I gotta ask Sol if he can make it that early to carry Psii back to Eq’s place –“

This provoked a dual outcry from the couch.  
“Wait -“  
“But -“  
_“Why?”_ they both finished together. Eridan stared back with the exact same expression of confusion they had turned on him. Dualscar was the first to find his voice.  
“Ψ can fly. Of course Ψ can fly us. It’s what he _does!_ ”  
“Like _hell_ am I letting _him_ carry _me_ again -“  
“You’re _sure?_ Wwait, wwhat d’ya mean, ‘us?’”  
There was another brief moment of silent confusion all around, again broken by Dualscar.

“Of course we’ll all go! We’ll _need_ all three of us. You to show the way, Ψ to fly us, and me to hold him both down and together. It’s a _medical_ procedure, right? Is he planning to knock Ψ unconscious for it?”  
“Uh…” Eridan turned back to his husktop. “Hang on, I’ll ask.”  
“Either way…” Dualscar mused, “I’d want to be there. If he’s unconscious, I want me, or someone I trust, there to look out for him. If he’s _not_ , then I’ll be there to look out for everyone _else_.”  
“I _do_ hate medicth,” Ψ offered, offhand. “Nothing perthonal.”  
Eridan quirked an eyebrow. “Wwhat’d you used to do wwhen you got a headache, or somethin’?”  
Ψ shrugged. “Thuffer, I thuppothe.”  
“That…probably applies whether you meant on the ship or before it,” Dualscar confirmed.  
“He says ‘no,’ anyway,” Eridan supplied. “So…wwell…all right. I guess wwe all gotta go.”

“What time does he want us, and how long a flight is it?” Dualscar prompted. Eridan blinked at him before turning away again.  
“A couple hours, wwhen Ara used to take me. Wwe used to go back and forth until that got annoyin’ an’ everybody assembled at Eq’s place for a wwhile before wwe left.” He gave Dualscar a sheepish grin over his shoulder. “So, yeah, I havven’t been home much lately.”  
Dualscar propped his face on his hand, leaning his elbow on top of the couch. “I guess that explains the rotten food.”  
“Oh! An hour after dusk, he says.”  
“So…” _Damn! Timezones again._ Dualscar scowled. _And he never did get back to me about breakfast._

Eridan fiddled with an onscreen clock. “Meanin’ wwe should leavve by eight.”  
_And it’s after ten already,_ Dualscar noticed. _And I want to wash this night’s stress off before I sleep._ He gave Ψ a one-armed hug as he heaved himself off the couch. “I’ll make you a nice big breakfast tomorrow, all right? And remember, you’ll have to fly lower and more slowly with us along.”  
“Don’t worry, I know you finfatheth don’t do well in low pressureth,” Ψ reassured him. “Pluth, you tend to dry out en route, tho you wind up drinking a gallon of water beforehand and having to pee every half hour.”  
“That last is just me, love,” Dualscar laughed, patting his shoulder, and then kneading at it for good measure. “My organs are all squished. Speaking of which, I’ll be right back.”

“Oh,” Ψ announced as Dualscar made to leave; he seemed to be recalling something. “I’m done.” He stretched his neck from side to side, and lounged back against the cushions, hooking his elbows over the couch top with a satisfied air.  
“…What _with?_ ” prompted Dualscar, when no elaboration seemed to be forthcoming. _The massage?_  
“The bookth.”  
Eridan turned around to stare at them.  
“I mean, obviouthly I can’t thniff them from here, but I put all the thuthpiciouth oneth in that big room, like you thaid.”  
“Oh! _Thank you_ , Ψ!” Dualscar prompted brightly.  
“You mean you been wworkin’ on that the _wwhole time?!?_ ” Eridan broke in.  
“Of courthe.” Ψ gave him an odd look. “There wathn’t anything elthe to do, and nobody told me to thtop.”  
“I mean! Well, you could’vve! Savved some for another time?” Eridan flailed from over the back of his chair in confusion. “I mean, thanks, I guess. That savves havvin’ ta do it later. Um.” He turned back to his screen, hiding his fluster. “Wwere there a lotta damaged ones?”

“No, not really. You theem to have a leak on one of the wallth, though; there’th a shelf that’th rotting out from the back and a lot of the bookth on it were stiff. I can show you where it ith. Actually, it’th pretty obviouth now, it’th the shelf with a big bare thpot where the bookth were.”  
Eridan cursed. “It’s gotta be up against a porthole or somethin.’”  
Ψ hmmed to himself for a minute. “Yeah, actually. There’th a little round window thing with a buthted hinge, or maybe it’th the latch? Maybe both,” he decided. “I can’t quite reach it from here. You want me to pull the shelf out to check?”  
“Mmnn, not noww,” Eridan said. “It’s not supposed to rain, so it can’t get that much wworse in a night or twwo. Just leavve it. Thanks.”  
It sounded begrudging, but was heartening nonetheless.  
“I can tell you right now, he’s going to be no help alphabetizing,” Dualscar warned on his way out. Eridan only chuckled.  
“No, I figured from his name.”  
That puzzled him. _Not...really what I meant?_

“Eridan, if you’re done confirming tomorrow’s schedule, would you like a neck rub too?” Dualscar waved the lotion bottle enticingly upon his return.  
“Wwell sure, wwhy wwouldn’t I?”  
“Some people don’t like having hands on their neck, especially from behind,” Dualscar explained, as Eridan approached the couch. “That’s all.”  
Eridan only shrugged. “I don’t mind.” He sat on the far end of the couch from Ψ, eyeing the somnolent form warily; Ψ didn’t stir, except to curl up a bit more.  
_Never been strangled by his kismesis, then; that’s good._ Dualscar rubbed a bit more lotion on his hands. After a moment’s thought, Eridan removed his scarf without prompting. _Excellent!_

Dualscar made sure to rub the soothing lavender scent far up the boy’s neck, close to the pheromone receptors on his earfins, even rubbing his thumbs along Eridan’s jawbone and down to his chin. That done, he moved down to work on the area he could reach through the top of Eridan’s shirt (minimal, as Eridan wore tight shirts and his hands were too large to fit) as well as out along the boy’s shoulder blades.  
Eridan had his eyes shut tightly; he made little “mrt!” noises whenever a particularly strong squeeze caught him off guard, but he was gradually dropping his guard altogether. _Not good. I think? Too damned trusting._ Dualscar bit his lip. _Well, I **did** want him to relax._  
With a mental sigh, Dualscar ran one hand in a quick stroke up the back of Eridan’s neck and into his hair, kneading at his scalp. Eridan shivered as a knot of tension came undone; feebly, he reached his arms out in front of him, grasping blindly at nothing.  
_He needs an anchor point,_ thought Dualscar, slipping an arm around the boy’s chest to hold him in place. Eridan hugged it tightly, and leaned into the embracing arm, flopping all his weight on it.  
_Now I’m not sure if his typical slump is a sign of being relaxed, or if he just has bad posture._ Well, floppy was a definite improvement over droopy, at least.

“I’m going to ‘coon soon,” said Dualscar softly. “I want to get up early to make us all a good breakfast.”  
“Mmm. ‘Kay.” _Is he falling asleep?_  
“Don’t stay up too late,” Dualscar chided, and then shot a guilty, worried glance at the dozing Ψ – his hands - _anywhere_ but Eridan, his master. _Agh agh agh, I did **not** mean to say that to him -_  
“Mhhm,” Eridan agreed, and then his eyes popped open. Dualscar flinched back as his master scrambled off the couch and back to his computer. “Dammit, I forgot I still gotta get in touch wwith Sol to call off the pickup –“  
Dualscar sighed quietly to himself, rolling his eyes as he collected Ψ and propelled him gently out the door. _No doubt he’ll be up all hours again, at this rate._ He barely managed to stop himself saying _don’t slouch!_ If daily backrubs became necessary, so be it.

After they’d both showered, Dualscar insisted on rubbing more lotion on Ψ, claiming lavender’s healing properties against small skin aches and itches, only partly as a pretense of checking him all over; so far, Ψ‘s scabs were all healing well, with no signs of infection. Ψ submitted to the inspection (and poorly-disguised groping) happily enough.  
“Ready to carry us all around the world tomorrow?” Dualscar teased.  
Ψ grinned at him fondly. “I can only lift my body, Dee. It’th you that liftth my thpiritth.” He nuzzled all over Dualscar’s face, all glowing smiles. “And ath thoon ath I can make _you_ feel good, I’ll be all _over_ you!”  
Dualscar hugged Ψ everywhere he could reach, which turned out to be his head and legs; Ψ wouldn’t stop slithering around him. “You make me feel good just by being here and smiling nice at me, you know that!”  
Very pointedly came the rejoinder: “Doeth _Eridan_ know that?”  
Dualscar froze.  
“... _Dammit,_ Dee! Jutht _tell_ him! Ugh, I don’t know why you alwayth do thith to yourthelf - I mean, I _know_ , I gueth, but I don’t _agree_ -”

“…I _will_ ,” said Dualscar reluctantly, pulling away. “But…” _Not now. Not tonight. Not ever, if I could manage it, but he needs to know, sooner rather than later. I owe him a proper explanation, a warning, at least; he deserves that much._ “Can’t we wait for one dust-up to settle before starting another?”  
It came out, unintentionally, as a plaintive whine. Ψ snuggled up next to him to rub their cheeks together, muttering soft soothing nothings until he relaxed – he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his fins so taut. The release of tension felt like a topical analgesic. _Sopor time – I’m overstressed tonight._

“What were you two talking about while I wath ekthploring?” Ψ sounded curious, not accusing.  
Dualscar stretched out next to him, wallowing in the slime. “Oh, this and that. His quadrants, mostly. He was telling me about his old moirail.” Wistfully, he added, “I felt a bit jealous, you know? I’ve never had one.”  
Beside him, Ψ snorted. Dualscar nuzzled under his chin, feeling sheltered. “Jutht ath well. You wouldn’t know proper pale if it walked up and thmacked you.”  
“That’s just it.” Dualscar grimaced. “I know he needs pale attention, that’s blatantly obvious, but I have no notion of what _sort_ of pale attention he needs. For instance, does he need paps? Or are hugs more effective? I simply don’t know him well enough! I can tell verbal shooshing won’t be enough, though. He’s more physical. Like – me.”

“Thoundth like you’ll need pretty intimate knowledge of him, then,” Ψ suggested.  
Dualscar flinched slightly. “Mmm. I guess…intimate’s the _word_ , all right.” He ran a hand through his hair, then curled that arm around Ψ’s head. “It feels kind of invasive, like I’m violating his privacy or forcing my attentions on him. He’s so _small!_ So _young!_ ”  
“ _Are_ you forthing yourthelf, though? Like, you don’t actually want to do it?”  
Dualscar winced. “That’s the other part of the problem. He’s _so_ needy, I can’t properly sort out what I’m actually feeling. He just. _Needs! Someone!_ So _much_ , that I can’t _stand_ it. I can’t just stand idly by.”  
Ψ breathed words into his ear, soft and reassuring. “Well, tho long ath you don’t feel obligated…It’th not your _duty_ Dee, you know that, right? And he doethn’t _own_ you. He’th not trying to be your mathter. That’th pretty clear, right? Nobody’th trying to guilt you into anything, either.” 

“No,” said Dualscar, with new resolve. “But that boy will _bleed_ for lack of pale – and when he does, he’ll bleed _my blood._ He’s my descendant, and I will provide everything I can for him, give him every advantage, so that he may grow up well – to help him get ahead; to make sure his life is better than my own. It _is_ my duty - my right! In fact, I’m glad I got the chance.” _He shall have all that he needs – I will see to it personally._ “I can manage to keep him content for the time being, and we’ll find him a proper moirail eventually. But I won’t entrust my own flesh and blood to just _anybody_ , or he’ll wind up falling for the first doe-eyed floozy to sail on by, and like as not get hurt again. Don’t want to rush into it with someone who’ll prove unsuitable.”  
Pleased with his decision, Dualscar snuggled up to Ψ and shut his eyes.


	8. Fitting

_Egg toast_ , Dualscar decided the next evening. _That’s protein and starch enough to power Ψ for a while, and he can put butter and jam on it. And there’s plenty of fruit._  
This time, the smell didn’t seem to wake Eridan. _It’s going on seven, and I know he’s not one to get up and ready quickly._ With some trepidation, Dualscar decided to knock.

“Eridan?”  
No response, or at least none he could hear; he knocked a little harder. “Eridan, it’s nearly seven, and you wanted to leave by eight.”  
This time there was some muffled cursing and thumping behind the door, and the sound of footsteps.  
“Breakfast is ready when you are,” Dualscar called as he glided back down the hall. _I’ll stick some fruit in my pocket for later, at least, in case we’re there for a while._

Eridan appeared in the galley a scant half-hour later, having evidently foregone a long shower in favor of a quick wash and throwing on a mishmash of whatever fancy clothes were nearest to hand. _Oh, are we slumming it tonight? Or is he honestly dressing to impress? I have no idea who to expect, what kind of person we’re going to see._ Whoever it was probably had some connection to the blueblood through whom the messages had come, at least. Perhaps a show of wealth was expected. _I can manage eccentricity, if not extravagance._ Dualscar fussed with his neckcloth, retying it into a fancier knot.

Ψ was fizzing over with nervous energy, tapping his hand against the doorframe, his feet against the floor, gnawing restlessly at a final piece of egg toast and spilling small drifts of cinnamon sugar off it. _Let’sgolet’sgo_ \- He hadn’t built up to dangerous levels yet, but it bore watching. Quite likely, he’d settle once they were properly under way.

Eridan shoveled down his food in awkward silence; it was hard to pretend there weren’t two imposing adults just waiting around for him to finish, doing their best not to breathe down his neck with ill-concealed impatience.  
“So,” Eridan began. He looked at Ψ, and broke off self-consciously. “I mean. D’wwe need, like. Y’knoww. A rope, to tie us together, or somethin’?”  
Ψ ground his teeth in frustration, growling low in his throat. Dualscar hesitated; he was too far away to pat Ψ’s shoulder reassuringly and make it look natural.  
“No, we don’t need a” (unintelligible garble) “ _rope!_ What the hell do you think I AM, anyway?”

Dualscar dared to step up to Ψ’s side. “He just doesn’t want you to strain yourself, dear.”  
The endearment slipped out, unbidden; he bit his tongue, a moment too late.  
Ψ made an annoyed noise, still addressing Eridan, not him. “You think I can only fly shipth, ith that it? I’ll fly THITH ship there, jutht thay the word!”  
The air crackled with power.

“Well, maybe he’s just afraid you’ll drop him, since you obviously don’t get along,” Dualscar filled in desperately. “I trust you, but I can’t trust you _for_ him. He has to do that on his own.”  
“You were _sick_ ,” Eridan offered quietly, practically cowering behind his chair.  
“ _Like that ever changed anything,_ ” Ψ snarled at him. “In the evidently pothible event that I thuddenly LOTHE THE POWERTH I’M NAMED FOR, I’ll be thure to pith on the ground on the way down tho you have a nithe puddle to land in, how’th that?”  
_”Ψ,”_ said Dualscar warningly. Ψ make a frizzling noise of frustration and flew a tight loop around the two of them; _gogogo_ mode was now firmly engaged until he could be downshifted. Dualscar grabbed him into a hug, and took a deep breath.  
_“Calm down.”_  
Ψ quieted a little, or at least stopped twitching.

“There’s no need for that,” Dualscar said, patting the now-stilled Ψ with the air of a man putting out a flame before it spread. “Unless one of you has a fetish, I suppose.”  
Eridan shuddered, picking up his plate. “Bluh. Please leavve me _out_ of it.” He left his dishes in the sink, as usual, and headed for the door. “All right, I’m gonna brush my teeth an’ meet you up on the deck.”  
Dualscar stepped back in to do the washing up. Ψ heaved a huge sigh, and floated quietly toward the stairs.

The takeoff was remarkable only for being uneventful, considering everything it had taken to get them there. They flew low, as requested, perhaps crows-nest height, well below the clearing clouds. Around them, they sky was still darkening; it looked to be a fine night. Ψ shivered.

“Ψ, are you cold?”  
“No, I’m okay.”  
They were strung out in a line behind him, so Dualscar couldn’t see his face, but Ψ seemed to be hunching in on himself when he turned around to speak. Dualscar watched as one of Ψ’s arms came up, and then the other; they crossed over his chest, and he shivered again, seemingly unaware of the action.

_I think you **are** cold._ Dualscar reached out an arm. “Ψ, come here.”  
Ψ seemed to pause in midair as Dualscar caught up to him, hugging him from behind, covering Ψ’s arms with his own, wrapped in warm wool. He pressed up against Ψ as much as he could, offering his body as insulation. “Here. This should help.”  
His legs wanted to tangle with Ψ’s, but he left them free, in case Ψ’s body wanted to curl up further.

Sure enough, Ψ continued hunching inward a minute later. Dualscar glanced over his shoulder at the boy trailing behind them, still gamely gripping his compass, studying it as if loath to tear his eyes away. “Eridan!”  
The boy’s head snapped up. “Wwe’re still goin’ the right wway!”  
Dualscar waved a hand at him. “I know, I know. Get over here.”  
Eridan blinked, then kicked in surprise as he floated up to join them.  
“Will you let Ψ hang on to you? I think he needs the extra body heat.”  
Ψ grumbled, and Eridan froze in place, but eventually Dualscar had them arranged to his liking, with Eridan wrapped securely in Ψ’s arms. Eridan had curled up small as the metal arms encircled him, eyes wide, making a low groaning sound of fear: _if I don’t move, maybe it won’t bother with me._ Dualscar reached around to rub his shoulder in reassurance. Ψ rolled his eyes, hugging Eridan closer.

“Lithen, kid, I don’t like thith anymore than _you_ do. Although...” he stretched back out. “You do feel nithe. Both of you, I mean.”  
“Let me guess,” Eridan muttered, “you’ve got a fuckin’ _duality_ kink.” He attempted to recoil, but it looked halfhearted.  
“No...it’th not that.” Ψ seemed to be getting lost inside his own head again. “It’th like...like tea, or thoup. Or that wall where we thit after dinner!”  
_”Warm,”_ Dualscar realized. “We’re warm. Well, warmer than the air, at least. You’ll always be warmer than us.”

“’Warm,’” Ψ mused. “I remember, it’th a touch-feeling, right? And when it’th too much, it’th _’hot?’_ Oh, but hot can be nithe too, like the bath...”  
“Or the tea,” Dualscar reminded him. “Pleasant-hot for me is just warm for you. And a thing that’s not warm is ‘cold.’”  
“I _like_ warm things,” said Ψ. Dualscar ceased patting at Eridan’s shoulder in order to pat at Ψ’s for a moment, unwilling to release the arm with which he clung to Ψ’s other side.  
“Well, when we get you some proper clothes, you can be warm all the time. I’ll have a word with the mechanic, too.”

“He does more than mechanical stuff,” Eridan interrupted. “He can do, like, medical stuff too.”  
“So he doubles as a doctor.” Dualscar paused to take it in.  
“Wwell, he’s alwways built robots, so he just started buildin’ robot body parts for people that needed ‘em.”  
“And he installs them himself?” asked Dualscar, fascinated.  
“Wwell, yeah. Wwho else wwould do it?”

And so the hours passed; Dualscar learned something _(far too little)_ of the troll they were going to see, and Eridan made occasional course corrections, mostly guided by landmarks once they reached land. They landed outside a familiar hive, having brought the twilight with them.  
“It’s rather early yet,” Dualscar fretted.  
“Nah, it’s all right,” said Eridan, hopping down to knock firmly on the door. “He’s expectin’ us.”

Moments later, the door was opened by a young troll in dark glasses and plain work clothes. The strangled noise he made upon seeing them clearly indicated that he wished to make some comment, but was restraining himself in the presence of…Two adults? Two seadwellers and a powerful psionic? _Come to think of it, was he expecting **all** of us?_  
“I apologize if we arrived earlier than planned,” Dualscar said smoothly, with a pat to his lover’s shoulder. “Ψ is very speedy.”  
Ψ feigned insult, smiling. “Oh sure, blame the guy who doethn’t know where we’re going or how long it taketh to get there –“

“Yeah, so,” Eridan waved a nonchalant hand at the troll in the doorway. “This is Eq.”  
“Equius Zahhak,” his friend snapped, and then looked to Dualscar as if nervous. “At your service.”  
_Oh dear. Eridan did warn me he used to be terribly hung up on caste._ Dualscar grinned disarmingly. “Ah, so _you’re_ the rocket surgeon! A pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Dualscar.”  
He clasped one of the boy’s hands in his own, and shook it firmly, then released it at once; their host had gone strangely rigid, a thin sheen of blue sweat forming on his brow. _Perhaps he doesn’t like to be touched? Well, that answers one question at least: the blueblood **is** the mechanic, not the keeper thereof._  
“Your hive is most impressive,” Dualscar commented, looking around as a way to break the tension.  
“Ah. Yes.” Finally, Equius seemed to snap out of his trance. “That is, thank you. Please, come inside.” He fidgeted a bit as he stood aside for them to pass: a hesitant welcome, rather than a warm one.

“Shall I show you to the lab so we can begin?”  
_Translation: “The sooner we’re done, the sooner you’re gone.”_ Dualscar could appreciate the sentiment, whether Eridan and Ψ recognized themselves as hive invaders or not. He took a moment to stretch his back out from hours of huddling around Ψ.  
“Well, I don’t know about the others, but _I_ need a short break, and a drink, before we start.”  
“Ah, of course,” Equius said, suddenly flustered. _Oh dear, I threw him off his groove already._ “I’m afraid I haven’t much to offer – would water be enough, or would you prefer milk?”  
“Milk?” Dualscar’s fins pricked up. “You have milk? Well, of course I’ll have water, and the same for my descendant, if you please, but I daresay milk would be _just_ the thing for Ψ! He needs the calories.” Equius nodded and excused himself.

“ _Lab?’_ ” Ψ queried uncertainly, suddenly gone very small and quiet. Dualscar took his arm to tow him out of the entryway.  
“Oh, he just means a workroom, don’t worry. He’s not a chemist or a biologist; I don’t think he’ll have anything frightening in there. Have you had milk before, Ψ?” he asked, as Eridan ushered them down the hall to a familiar bathroom.  
“Umm,” Ψ dithered, still unsure, “maybe? I can’t thay.”  
“Oh, you’ll like it. It’s creamy and sometimes a bit sweet; it has natural sugars.” Dualscar prattled on for bit, feeling better already with a chance to freshen up. He even splashed some water on his face, tried to straighten up his windblown hair (fruitless!) and Ψ’s (even worse!), and let Eridan borrow his comb. “Right, let’s go face our destiny.” That won him a pair of smiles, which he matched with his own.

Equius was waiting patiently a little further down the hall, statue-still with a tray in his hands holding three thick mugs. Dualscar took one of the two that had clear liquid and sipped it – definitely water - before passing the other to Eridan, who drank from it politely. He managed a discreet sniff of the white liquid as he passed it to Ψ, but it didn’t smell soured at all; their host must truly have milk to spare.  
“It’th _cold_ ,” Ψ commented after he’d tried it, not in complaint so much as surprise.  
“Ah, yes, I keep it in my,” Equius glanced at Dualscar, “refrigerator, so it won’t spoil.”  
Ψ licked at his lips a few times, looking confused, before bringing the mug to his mouth again and lapping delicately at the surface of the liquid as though trying to make sense of the flavor before committing to it. Amused, Dualscar put a hand on his back and steered him gently in the direction Equius was leading them.

“It rather sounds like the setup for a joke, doesn’t it?” Dualscar said, attempting to keep the mood light as they entered the lab _(workroom.)_ “Two seadwellers and a goldblood walk into a bar…”  
“I think I _know_ thith one!” Ψ jumped in, and immediately started flailing. “It’th, uh, wait, I remember, they jutht _thtare_ at each other and eventually the thionic thayth ‘If neither of you are having a drink, I will!’”  
There was silence all around for a moment. Dualscar frantically ran over it in his mind.  
“Okay,” he concluded. “I think I’ve got it. It’s ‘A blueblood and his psionic walk into a bar just ahead of a seadweller. They stare at each other until the psionic says “If neither of you _have any orders_ , I’d like a drink.”’ Or something like that. Maybe the psionic’s the bartender, I can’t tell.” He whapped Ψ lightly. “Now stop makin’ me reverse-engineer your jokes!”

There were strangled noises from both of the boys, and muffled snickering from Ψ, who was trying to hide inside his mug. “What? I never said it was a very _good_ joke.”  
“No, wait,” Ψ continued, still laughing, “there’th a bunch of cute girlth at the bar, and he thayth, ‘If you’re not _getting_ anything, I will...’”  
Dualscar shoved a hand over his mouth to cut him off. “Enough already! Finish your drink.” He turned to Equius as Ψ slurped obligingly. “Where do you want him?”

“Er! Have him, that is, will you…” Equius, blushing lightly, looked back and forth between Dualscar and Ψ, obviously unsure who to address, before finally giving up and turning away to fuss with something self-consciously. “Lie down on the table there.”  
It was obvious where he meant; there was a shining metal slab some eight feet long standing away from the wall on spindly legs, surrounded by extra lamps. On one side was a tool cart, next to a small table on which were laid what must be the replacement prosthetics, atop a soft cloth pad. Dualscar helped Ψ sit up on one side of the table, then looked to the mechanic for guidance.  
“Does it matter which end his head’s at?”

“No,” Equius told them, “I can move around as needed.” He fidgeted. “Er. Mister…Captor. How are you addressed?”  
“The Thiioniic,” Ψ told him, just as Dualscar got over his own surprise to offer, “The Ψiioniic.”  
“The…Psionic?” Equius attempted.  
“'Thiiioniic,'” Ψ corrected.  
“It’s got four ‘I’s,” Dualscar told him helpfully.  
“The Psiioniic; all right. Mister The Psiioniic, if you would please lie down - _Ampora, what are you doing?!_ ”  
Dualscar was taken aback ( _me?_ ) Confused, he looked around to see Eridan backing away from poking at whatever Equius had been messing with earlier. “Nuffin,’” the boy insisted, hurriedly stuffing his hands in his pockets. Dualscar sighed, and went to collect him.

“Just a moment,” he asked, as he stepped between Eridan and Equius, blocking him from view. _Forget him, ignore him; it’s just me._ He reached down to give Eridan a hug. _I’m not mad._ “Thank you for guiding us here tonight,” he murmured.  
The boy’s scared-startled sulk turned at once to happy pride. “Wwell, I can’t honestly say it wwas a _pleasure_ , but. Anythin’ for you.”

Dualscar smiled at him fondly. “Will you do me a great favor, Eridan?”  
Eridan looked surprised, then squared his shoulders and stood straighter. “Of course! Wwhat is it you need?”  
Dualscar laid a gentle hand on his shoulder; his bulk forming a shield between the boy and the others. _Just us here._ Quietly, he said, “I want you to take a nap.”  
Eridan blinked; before he could get out more than a startled _buh_ , Dualscar hurried on. “You’ve been short on sleep lately, and it wouldn’t do to get irritable while you’re a guest in someone’s hive. It looks like this might take a while. I’m sorry I didn’t think to bring anything for you to do. Normally, I could be your entertainment, but,” he glanced over his shoulder, “as I understand it, Ψ needs to be conscious and responsive for at least part of this, and I may be needed to restrain him.”

He relaxed slightly; his master didn’t seem to be getting defensive. If anything, he looked a bit lost. Dualscar gave his shoulder a pat, still keeping his voice down. “Would you do it for me? You’ve been run a bit thin, lately, for my sake. Take some time for yourself! Even if you just lie down and rest for a few hours. We won’t be far away, and I promise we won’t leave without you.”  
Eridan nodded slowly. “Mmm, all right? If you say so. I mean, if you think it’s best.”  
Dualscar turned to Equius, hand still on Eridan’s shoulder. “Is it all right if he uses your crash couch?”

The mechanic was easily flustered, it seemed. “I. Er. Yes. That is. It’s fine. Um.” He pointed to a screened-off corner of the room. “It’s over there. But how did you know I had one?”  
“Well, it’s a big hive,” Dualscar reasoned. “I imagine your sleeping quarters are in an entirely different wing, and it’s probably a hassle for you to hike there and back when you’re in the middle of something and just need to rest your eyes for a little bit. You’ve probably got some sustaining snacks stashed around here somewhere too. Something non-perishable, like dried meat, right?”  
“Er. I, um. Don’t actually eat meat.” The poor thing was sweating nervously, as if he expected to be shouted at any moment. “There’re some oat-nut bars, though, and I sometimes have whey protein or yeast flakes around.”  
Dualscar smiled at him reassuringly. “Right! Like I thought. No, Ψ, you can’t have any of that right now. Now stop fussing, I’ll only be a minute.” He stepped away, steering Eridan toward the screen.

He gave the couch a good once-over when they got there, considering. It was more of a futon, really, with a pillow and light blanket. The folded blanket smelled a bit sweaty (he set it aside), but the mattress looked reasonably clean. “Go on, sit down and take off your shoes.” While Eridan complied, Dualscar fussed over the pillow, fluffing and flipping it to find the freshest bit. Then he took off Eridan’s cape, unhooking the gold chain from both sides and laying it between the pillow and the wall. “Lie down and I’ll tuck you in.”

Eridan looked so strangely _vulnerable_ , thought Dualscar, tucking the cape around his shoulders. Especially when he curled up smaller so his feet were covered too. Well, he _was_ falling asleep in the hive of a blueblood who clearly had no love for seadwellers: ostensibly enemy territory. Dualscar found himself spouting reassurance as he tucked away the dangling end of Eridan’s scarf under his cape, gave it a pat, and stepped back. It wouldn’t do to have it drag on the floor; it might get dirty.  
“Now don’t fret, we’ll be just around the corner, all right? And if we all have to step out for some reason, or go to another room, I promise I’ll either wake you, or leave you a note. Okay?” Gently, he plucked Eridan’s glasses off his face, folded them, and placed them on a small table by the bed; tiny shards of dark lenses seemed to indicate it had been used for that purpose before.

“Okay,” answered Eridan shyly. Dualscar was struck by a sudden urge to…kiss him good day, or something? Maybe pat his head reassuringly? No, that would be way too patroniz _oh hell, I’m already doing it._

His traitorous hand gave Eridan’s head another awkward pat; the boy snuggled down further into his cape, and shut his eyes. Dualscar turned away quietly, shaken by his misstep, and went to rejoin the others.

“My apologies for that,” he said quietly to Equius, who nodded and murmured, “No, not at all.” “He really does need the sleep. And I’d much rather you not be distracted from your work by thoughts of him running loose in your hive while you’re busy. If it’s any consolation, he’d most likely wind up just plopping down and reading a book somewhere. At worst, he’d poke at something that looked interesting until it fell over or otherwise made a loud noise, and then he’d skitter away and hide somewhere else. I think he’d as much rather not be here as you’d rather not have him. But Ψ should be able to find the way on his own from now on, so you won’t have this worry again.”

Dualscar craned his neck curiously back the way he’d come, at a covered heap of what had looked to be damaged robots, to judge by the ones sticking out the far side where the canvas didn’t cover. “Are those your work as well? At first, I took them for more prosthetics, but some of them have heads.”

“Er, yes. That is, I have somewhat extensive experience in robotics, both programming and construction, so it seemed a natural extention to apply my skills to my, er, friends’ medical issues as well. The full robots are remnants of some of my older projects, built when I was quite young – it’s been a while since I tackled anything in that vein.”  
_(And you still haven’t bothered to clean up? Hire a maid!) Wait, that construction…_

A dawning realization. “You built the shuttle, didn’t you?”  
“Ah. The Rattletrap. Yes.” His face and voice spoke to Dualscar: _embarassed, fond, proud._ “It’s,” he gestured vaguely, “in the garage.”  
_(Preserving it for a future trip?) You’re_ “Amazing.”  
Dualscar watched closely as Equius went blue in the face. _Uncomfortable with the attention, or the praise? Specifically from me, as a seadweller, or an adult, or an outsider?_

Dualscar turned away to take the pressure off their host, and ran his fingers along the artificial arms, marveling at the patterns the seams made, the cleverness of the joints, the sleek grace and understated shine: unquestionably Ψ’s essence imagined in metal.  
“I had thought we were here for a mechanic, but I heard from both you and Eridan that you are also a medic, and now I see you are an artisan as well; a master craftsman, to judge by workmanship alone.”

Equius struggled to produce words. “I! Well! Er! It’s…excuse me.” He pulled out a towel and mopped his face, now streaming with sweat. _Oh dear, did I go too far?_ “It’s only a very basic design,” Equius informed him when he reemerged, “with pressure sensors roughly corresponding to major nerve clusters, and a few unassigned connections to account for the smaller areas; I’ll hook them up as best I can. I could do,” he continued in a manner Dualscar could only think of as _shy_ , “something much more sophisticated, given time.”

“When you say ‘hook them up,’ what exactly does that entail?”  
“At any rate, it is my moirail who is the artist, not me,” Equius finished, finally rambling himself down into his calmer state. “Oh, yes, the nerves in the prosthetics will need to be individually assigned to the inputs on the limb caps, in order for the signals to reach the correct part of the brain. That’s mostly programming, done via a small diagnostic tool once the new limb is in place; the physical attachment should take hardly any time at all.”

“Ith that what’th wrong with thethe oneth?” Ψ broke in. “There’th, like, not enough feedback from thethe fingerth!”  
“Well,” Equius hedged, “I _had_ intended to calibrate them after we both got some rest. I _certainly_ didn’t expect you to go sailing off as soon as you woke up, although that looks to have been an oversight on my part, given your flighty nature.”  
“Tho now it’th _my_ fault?” Ψ gestured angrily. “I hurt _Dee!_ ” he complained. “I jutht feel so _badly!_ ”  
Dualscar snorted in amusement. “That might, in fact, be the _only_ correct use of that phrase I’ve ever heard.”  
“And I feel _bad_ about it too!” Ψ confirmed.

“Ah, of - course.” Equius mopped at his brow again. “At any rate, it’s probably not worth calibrating them now; I can use the data from the calibration of the upgrades just as well. The transfer should take just a few minutes – if you’ll lie down?”  
Ψ hesitated, leaning into Dualscar. “I don’t like lying down…It feelth weird having motht of my body higher than my head.”  
“Poor proprioception, is it?” Equius _hmmed,_ and fished for an instrument on his tray. “Any issues with balance or hearing?”  
“No, he maintains level perfectly well; he doesn’t go tipping sideways or upside-down unless he’s feeling playful.” To Dualscar’s surprise, the mechanic seemed to be ignoring him in favor of addressing his project directly. That Ψ _answered_ him directly wasn’t surprising; he’d never cared about hierarchy, or even propriety. Still, it was - _Curious. I wonder if he talked to his robots, too._ Admitedly, it was probably easier to see Ψ as a person now that he was free of the helm and had replaced his missing limbs, but - _He **made** those replacements!_

“It’th not that, really, I don’t think. Jutht, I’m uthed to alwayth being held upright, thidewayth ith weird. Altho, my body doethn’t feel like my body yet. The new partth especially. I’m not uthed to feeling thingth with it, ith all. I don’t think you could _be_ a thionic without propriotheption, you’d run into thingth.” Equius was shining a small light into Ψ’s ear. Ψ tolerated it with barely a wince at a too-rough tug, and turned to allow access to his other ear when prompted. “It’th like, even when I’m on a couch and my head and feet are at the thame level, my head feelth lower, like it’th too low.”  
“Well, maybe you just need more pillows to be comfortable,” Dualscar said consideringly. “Let’s try it.” He took his coat off, folded it neatly, and set it at the end of the table. “Try lying back on that, now.”

Ψ lowered himself down, his head settling into the coat, and was silent a moment, processing. “It’th better,” he announced. “Definitely better thith way, but I’d thtill rather be thitting up.”  
“Is there some reason he can’t be sitting up for this?” Dualscar had to ask. He tried not to make it sound like a challenge, as Equius looked uncomfortable and was starting to sweat again. “I don’t mean to pressure you, if it’s really not workable that way,” he allowed. “I defer to your judgement on the matter.”  
“Er, well,” Equius fretted, wringing his hands. “I had expected – yes. For his arms, at least, I want to have them supported by the table while they’re attached, so I can be sure they won’t move, and their weight can’t affect any of the delicate connection elements –“  
“But you could switch out his legs with him sitting up,” Dualscar countered.  
“Yes, of course, provided he holds still, but he’d need to do that in any case-”

There was a strange _oo_ quality to his _oh_ s as he grew more flustered, Dualscar noticed, and stresses in odd places within words, not quite on syllables. _Oo, ll, ks, a tendancy toward technical terms._ “Looks like we have a plan we can execute, then,” he attempted, and was gratified to see Equius’s face brighten.  
_Maybe, if we can ease Ψ into this, he won’t have time to freak out._ “Can you elucidate more on the virtues and needed care of the prosthetics?”  
Equius towled off his brow briefly. “Absolutely. What do you want to know?”  
Dualscar ticked off points on his fingers. “First, are they waterproof? Are they _salt_ waterproof? Are they _sand_ proof? Will he need to wear shoes? Socks?” He slowed down as Equius held up both hands.  
“The new set should prove waterproof to a depth of five meters, minimum.”  
Ψ snorted. “If I’m that deep, I have bigger problemth.”

Equius continued, ignoring him for the moment. “Salt water, I’m not as sure. It shouldn’t have any more penetrating power than fresh, provided the pressures involved are not above those specified. I imagine it may accelerate corrosion, but I’ll remember to plan for it in the next set. Similarly, sand…” he frowned. “It may prove to be a problem, but whether sand getting inside the joints will prove worse in terms of mechanical damage and jamming, or simply causing feelings of irritation, is hard to say. I’ll try to work out some form of barrier layer for future models. In the meantime, shoes…” he trailed off, grimacing. “I’ll leave it up to your ruling, whether they’d do more to keep sand away from his feet, or trap sand up against them. I’d recommend the socks as a protective layer, if you do choose to have him wear shoes.”

“I don’t _walk_ , Dee,” Ψ interrupted.  
Dualscar leveled a Look at him. “You _will._ ”  
Startled by his intensity, Ψ flattened his ears down, making a face that said _meep._  
Dualscar turned back to Equius. “All right, so they’re not hard to care for; that’s good. What else can you tell me about them?”  
Equius, obviously delighted to have an interested audience, launched into an unpracticed spiel, pointing out the various improvements made from the previous versions. Dualscar peered with interest at the newly articulated joints, and nodded politely at descriptions of the internal wiring.

“And you may be pleased to know, these represent something of a new direction for me. My previous work in – robotic replacements – mimicked and grafted directly into the bearer’s own circulatory system, letting their blood flow through artificial veins to bring a feeling of life to the limbs. But since it would obviously be impossible to obtain a sufficient quantity of the correct blood in this instance, I contrived instead to build a sort of permanent receptive surface onto the remaining tissue – a cap, if you will. The limbs attach to this cap – they can be swapped out, upgraded or replaced as needed – and they contain a network of very delicate artificial nerves.” His eyes were shining, proud as anything. “In combination with the artificial muscle fibers,” he pointed them out as he spoke, “They should allow the limbs to be moved naturally. Er…without the use of psionics, I mean.”

“Well, he does that ‘naturally’ too,” Dualscar replied, soaking it all in. _So there’s no blood._ “Ah. That reminds me, there’s another thing I need to ask about. These” (he tapped a metal thigh) “They don’t generate a lot of heat, do they?”  
Equius hastened to assure him that they did not.

“Well, that’s a problem then.”  
The mechanic looked blank; Dualscar tried another tack. “Here, let me show you. Put one hand on his knee, here, and the other on his elbow.” He placed Equius’s hands where he wanted them. “Notice the difference? His knee’s much colder.”  
Equius nodded slowly in bafflement. “Yes, because…it’s metal? I’m sorry; I still don’t see the problem.”

Dualscar raised his voice, and his temper with it. “My problem is, you’ve strapped my psionic to _four giant heat sinks!_ And it’s coming on _winter!_ ” He jabbed a finger toward Ψ as Equius recoiled from his intensity. “I’m going to have _enough_ trouble getting the calories in him he needs to do all the flying he wants, he can’t go wasting them on _shivering!_ ”

“Eeheeheehee,” snickered Ψ, shoulders shaking. Dualscar was indignant.  
“Stop that! I can’t tell if you’re amused, or cold!”  
“It’th both, I think. Thith table’th metal too.”

Dualscar grumbled halfway across the room to Eridan’s corner; he cut it out in time to make his final approach properly stealthy. Sure enough, the boy was asleep when he poked his head around the screen, hands curled tight in the cape, holding it close to his chin. Dualscar calmed, watching the gentle shifts of his breathing for a long moment, then quietly retrieved the unused blanket and stalked back across the floor to spread it under Ψ. “This all right?” he demanded. His tone was still snappish, but he was startled to find much of his intended acidity had been leached out since he’d stepped away.  
“Er. Yes. It’s washable – I mean, it’s fine.”  
“Ugh.” Ψ was wrinkling his nose. “It _needth_ washing, it’th all thweaty thmelling.”

The mechanic seemed to take no offense, or indeed, no notice of the remark; he was lost in thought, brow furrowed, and muttering furiously into his hand while Dualscar spread the blanket under Ψ. Eventually, he stomped a foot in frustration; to Dualscar’s startlement, small cracks appeared in the floor. “Damn,” he concluded. “Ah. Forgive my language, but – damn and _blast!_ This is _exactly_ the situation where you’d _want_ blood-circulating prosthetics! And I _can’t provide them!_ ”  
“I’m sure there’s another way,” Dualscar proposed. “External heat sources, either attached or built in, or worn on clothing? What’s the expected range of operating temperatures? I don’t suppose you’ve done a lot of work for warmbloods.”

“More than you’d think,” Equius supplied offhandedly, obviously already plotting workarounds in his head.  
Dualscar was surprised. “How did they fare, with the temperature difference? Or no, you said the other ones used blood –”  
“Not the last set,” Equius admitted. “That one was – hmm. Quite an extensive job in terms of flesh replaced, almost akin to this, and on a warmer-blooded subject, too. But I’m afraid I can’t tell you if it would have led to long-term problems, as the recipient died soon afterwards of. Er. Unrelated causes. That is to say, the prosthetics didn’t kill him.”  
“Am I being too forward in asking what _did?_ ” Dualscar gestured broadly. “You say unrelated, but…”  
“He was stabbed,” Equius said uncomfortably.  
Dualscar relaxed, tension draining from his fins. “Ah. Unrelated, then, as you said. At least to the functioning of the prosthetics.”  
“Exactly. Incidentally, I suppose now would be as good a time as any to warn you against attempting stairs immediately.”

Ψ rolled his eyes. Dualscar chuckled. “We’ll work up to it, I promise. I’m more worried about keeping his feet on the ground at all. He’ll need to build up considerable muscle to have any hope of using these limbs as intended.”  
Equius stammered, “I’ve made them as light as reasonably -” but Dualscar waved him silent. “No fault of yours; he’s got enough muscle left to hold his head up, and that’s about it. I doubt he’d be able to move ‘em without psionics if you’d made ‘em of insulating foam. It’ll take time, that’s all. And assuming he _does_ build muscle, what then?” He wrapped a hand around one elbow, just above the transition where it met the metal. “Will he need further surgeries to resize the caps as he fills back out?”  
“Almost certainly,” concurred Equius. Ψ squirmed. Pity pangs made Dualscar pull him half off the table into a sideways hug. “I can work on designing a cap that will expand with him, though, so it would theoretically need to be switched out only once or twice more.”

Dualscar hummed, rubbing a hand up and down Ψ’s arm and shoulder as he eyeballed the waiting replacements. “Are the new ones the same size as the old?”  
“Er, yes. Of course I didn’t have a true guideline for the length, but I tried to make them proportional to his spine and upper arms. If you’d prefer the next set to be shorter, or, er, longer –”  
“No need,” Dualscar cut in lightly. Ψ was scowling. “I wanted to be sure his new clothes would fit, that’s all.” He bumped noses lightly with Ψ. “You don’t need to be any taller, you silly goose.”  
Dualscar paused to stretch; his back was starting to bother him again. “Mmm. So, for the next set, some sort of temperature control – are these temperature-sensitive, by the way?”  
“Mn, no, they’re not, but I’m certain I could find a way to work that in.” The mechanic crossed to his workbench to pull out a beat-up notebook and pen. “Excuse me a moment, I’ll leave myself a reminder.”  
“All right then, I’m going to take a short break,” Dualscar collected up the mugs, “get us more water, and I’ll be right back. Will you give Ψ some yeast flakes or a protein bar or something? He could use some more probiotics, and I’m sure he’ll need the nutrition.”

Equius was still making rapid notes when Dualscar returned, but Ψ was contentedly munching on a cup of “something,” so he’d be all right for a while.  
“I’m going to rig up some temperature sensors for you to wear on the way home,” Equius announced. _Still talking to Ψ, I presume._ “Both on your prosthetics and over your skin. That will give me an idea of the desired temperature range for the prosthetics to produce, and how much power will be needed to maintain it during flight. I’d like you to wear them for a short time before leaving and for a few hours after you get home, as a further comparison, after which you can take them off and deactivate them; the memory chips I have should hold some eight hours of data. Er - _Lord_ Ampora.”  
_Oh, is that the way you want to play this?_ “Yes, Sir Zahhak?” Dualscar replied innocently, amused at the mechanic’s answering twitch.

“I. Er, you needn’t –“  
_You started it!_ “Well, I only wanted to provide a level of formality you’d be comfortable with. I can stop, if you’d rather.” _You first._ “I’m certain you deserve the title at least as much as I do, by dint of blood alone.”  
Now Equius was starting to squirm in obvious discomfort. Luckily for him, Ψ interrupted.  
“Dee, thtop needling the guy who hath my _handth_ in hith handth.”  
“As you wish, _Mister_ Captor,” said Dualscar, and dropped a quick, mischievous kiss on his cheek, eyes full of laughter.

“Er. As I was saying. If you’d be so kind as to monitor and keep a chart of The Psiioniic’s internal temperatures for me – say, several times a night for a week or so, noting time and activity level – that would be useful as well.”  
Dualscar nodded. “Of course. I’ll ask Eridan if he has a thermometer already.” He assumed so; the medicine cabinet had seemed well-appointed at first glance.  
“Excellent. I should be able to construct some wearable sensors without too much delay. But first, I’ll remove the old prosthetics and install the new.”

Together, they turned towards the table and – Ψ was halfway across the room, hovering just inside the hallway door. Dualscar sighed.  
“I rather thought he’d pull something like this, when it came down to it.” He glanced back to wave Equius off. “Will you back up a bit? I’ll try to gentle him down.

“Ψ, come here,” said Dualscar, stepping toward him and beckoning. His tone turned coaxing. “He can’t fit you with _your new, improved_ prosthetics if you won’t hold still.”  
Ψ floated back over toward the table slowly, his attention flicking nervously toward the mechanic, and then away.

“Come on. It’ll be all right. I’ll be right here watching. I won’t let him hurt you. He’s just going to give you a better one, all right? Here, I’ll even hold your hand. Do you remember which hand you favor?”  
After a moment, Ψ shook his head, sharp and tense.  
“All right.” Dualscar turned to Equius. “Will you switch out the left one first? And then calibrate it, so I can hold that hand without my fingers being crushed.” He grinned down as Ψ settled back onto his makeshift pillow.

Dualscar and Equius now faced each other from opposite sides of the table, and Ψ lay between them, subtly trembling. “You’re all right?” Dualscar said, reaching down to cup Ψ’s face in one hand, and realizing, “No, you’re really not. Come here.”  
Ψ oozed up Dualscar’s side, clinging to his shirt. “There, shh,” Dualscar coaxed. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you. I’m here.” He let out a soft sigh of merriment. “I guess that’s not very good reassurance, seeing as how my presence has not historically prevented bad things from happening to you, but I give you my word that I won’t let him hurt you.”  
A strangled sound came from the mechanic. “I must confess, there will almost surely be some degree of discomfort involved-“  
“Well, you’re not going to go cutting into him, or ripping bits off, now are you?” Ψ had shifted so his back was against Dualscar. He held one of Dualscar’s arms wrapped across his chest like a baldric.  
Equius shook his head wildly enough to send sweat drops flying; Ψ recoiled a bit further, drawing his feet toward Dualscar as well. “No, of course not. I plan nothing so imprudent-“  
“Then it’s all right. _You_ don’t have any need to worry,” Dualscar told Equius, and then stepped sideways down the table, turning Ψ partway around so they were face to face again. “And neither do _you_ ,” he said firmly, patting Ψ’s nose with a fingertip. “So stop fussing. It’ll be over quick, and you’ll have working fingers again.”  
Ψ nodded, but twitched his arm away again as Equius reached for it.

“Ψ! Stop that and lie still!” Dualscar gestured to Equius, who was rubbing the side of his face with a towel. “You’re wasting this poor man’s time!” Still Ψ balked, squirming away as soon as the mechanic made a move for his tools.  
What now? He’d gone through pleading and scolding with little to show for it, and was starting to feel annoyed. Getting angry at Ψ was unlikely to be effective; he was used to it, had even made something of a hobby out of pissing people off.  
“All right. You leave me no choice!” Scowling, Dualscar stepped back, then let his face fall. His fins drooped and his eyes widened; he hunched his shoulders and let his lip wibble slightly, giving Ψ his best _don’t you love me_ face.

“NaaHH! Thtoppit, _pleathe!_ I’ll be good.” Ψ flailed both arms at Dualscar, pulling him into a soothing hug as soon as he stepped back within grabbing distance.  
“You _promise?_ ” Dualscar prompted, with tears in his voice.  
_”Yeth!_ I’ll hold thtill!”  
“All right, all right,” said Dualscar, rewarding Ψ with a little neck-nuzzle and motioning Equius back to the table. “Now don’t squirm so.” He looked up at the mechanic. “Would you be so kind as to talk to us throughout the procedure, what you’re doing and what you’re going to do? You outlined it already, just – give us the ‘hands-on’ version, hmm?” He turned Ψ so his left side was within easy reach.

Ψ breathed in sharply, but held still, as Equius reached again for his arm. “Yes, sir. I’ll begin by detaching the left forearm from the cap –“  
“Show me how the release mechanism works,” Dualscar interrupted him.  
“Certainly, sir. In case of emergency – if the arm becomes trapped beyond hope of extraction –“ (Ψ snorted in disbelief, and Dualscar privately agreed; what weight could possibly trap Ψ that he wouldn’t be able to move?) “Simply apply pressure at these points, slide and twist –“  
“Oh,” said Ψ, as the limb fell away. “Oh, that feels weird.” He waved his stump with a look of growing distress.  
“Shh, it’s all right, I’ve got you,” Dualscar told him, steadfastly ignoring his hand being crushed in a desperate metal grip. He reached up to wrap a restraining arm around Ψ’s left shoulder. “Hold your arm still so he can put the new one on.”  
“You can see now the cap I mentioned before,” Equius yammered on nervously, “and attaching a limb is simply the same procedure in reverse. Line up the mechanism at these points, press and turn gently –“  
The new arm clicked into place. Ψ held it up, wiggled the fingers for a moment, and relaxed.  
“The pressure points that unlock the limb from the cap also cut off the nerve connections between them, so typical removal should cause no pain. Incidentally, I tried to make it impossible for a limb to be installed upside down; the nerves won’t line up properly. If, for any reason, you are trying to attach one and find it will not turn smoothly, don’t try to force it on; you might damage – or further damage - the locking mechanism. If you need to _remove_ one in a hurry, I suppose possible damage is less of a concern, although damage to the cap is still possible, and would require surgery to repair.”  
“No, I got it,” Ψ explained back to him. “Better to leave a piece of the metal arm on, than to walk off and leave a piece of the flesh one behind.”  
Nuzzling his neck, Dualscar surreptitiously felt Ψ’s pulse with one fin, and listened closely to his breathing, as both slowed gradually back to normal.

Dualscar let his attention wander while Equius calibrated Ψ’s new hand. It seemed to involve a lot of Ψ going “agh!” and wincing, briefly, as each artificial nerve receptor was connected directly to his brain, somehow? The science was a little beyond him. He let his gaze fall on the room instead of his company; it had the look of a once- and often-cluttered space hastily cleaned and not yet back to its typical state, judging by the dusty junk shoved against the walls and piled up in the corners.  
There was someone _else_ there, Dualscar realized suddenly. Not with them, but nearby – some foreign sound or scent - he looked around gradually, trying not to draw attention to the movement.  
There. The vent on the wall. They were being observed.  
…Well, thought Dualscar, that was nothing new for _him_. And the blueblood didn’t seem bothered, and he would certainly have been aware of every presence in his space. So it must be someone he considered a friend, possibly worried about how he’d get on with his visitors. An auspistice? He turned and gave the vent a friendly grin, and got a sense of startled fluster from that direction before he looked away. _Best leave well enough alone, for now._

Now that he knew, it wasn’t hard to see that the mechanic’s attention was directed…elsewhere. He tended to address the room at large, rather than the couple in front of him; he pointedly did not look at the vent in question, but still couldn’t help twitching his ears towards it.  
_He is anxious; for whose sake, I do not know._

“Can you make a fist for me?” Equius was saying, as Dualscar returned his attention to the ongoing procedure. “Not with your psionics, I mean, just by sending the command with your brain.”  
Ψ looked blank. “But my brain _ith_ thionicth,” he murmured.  
Dualscar thought he saw the problem. “Here, it’s like this.” He stretched his arm out alongside Ψ’s, so that they were aligned, turned his hand palm-up, and drew in all his fingers at once.  
Ψ brightened. “Oh! That’th - _power_.” His hand twitched, the fingers and thumb curling in together into a loose fist.  
“Excellent. Now, spread your fingers back out, as wide as you can.”  
“Like this,” Dualscar demonstrated.  
“That’th _shield._ ” This time, Ψ’s wrist turned as well, so that his splayed palm faced downward at the end of the movement. “It _workth!_ ”  
“I should hope _so_ , after all that,” Dualscar said.  
“Oh, wow.” Ψ flexed his new hand delightedly. “Wow wow, it really feelth like a part of me!”  
Dualscar laughed and patted his shoulder, painfully untangling his crushed fingers from Ψ’s metal ones. “Here, spin around and let him at the other one, then! If you’re ready.”  
A short series of snaps, clicks, and complete lack of hysteria later, Ψ’s second arm had been swapped out as well.

Dualscar hummed and nuzzled Ψ while the second arm was calibrated. Though the procedure was every bit as fiddly and painstaking as before, Ψ’s new arm made a most engaging toy. He laced their fingers together, squeezing gently until Ψ squeezed back; he ran a fingertip over the surface of the hand to test its sensitivity. Ψ showed little reaction to having the back of his hand touched; not too many nerves there, then. His hand closed spasmodically when Dualscar ran a finger around the narrow box of his palm; that must have some feeling in it. As Dualscar traced swiftly up to his fingertips and back down to his palm, Ψ shuddered all over; on his other side, Equius bit off what might have been the mildest oath ever uttered.  
“Sorry,” said Dualscar, and thought about meaning it.

Sometime later, the second arm’s calibration was evidently complete; Ψ flexed his hand open and closed in delight as Equius removed his tool, satisfied. Ψ sat up at once, and reached for Dualscar, tangling the fingers on their free hands together before he slid off the table and stood up. He held his arms open expectantly.

_Right, right._ Dualscar stepped in, smiling at him, and leaned around Ψ to address the mechanic. “Will you excuse us for a moment –“  
Ψ began groping his butt, a wicked grin on his face. Dualscar poked him in the ribs. _Hey, now!_  
“- Er, a few minutes?” he revised. “I did promise him this.”  
Then he was lost in Ψ’s embrace, thoroughly distracted by the pleasant sensation of gentle touches. Ψ’s hands ran up his back, found and examined his shoulder blades, curled for a moment over his shoulders before reversing their motion and tracing down under his armpits instead; they ran down his sides and paused, before continuing more gently over his gills. Dualscar drew in a quick breath, not quite a gasp, and stood on his tiptoes, clinging tightly to Ψ in return. He offered Ψ a soft purr, and Ψ made a pleased noise, running his long metal fingers over the gills again before spreading both hands, ever so gently, over Dualscar’s rounded belly.  
He was used to touch there; it seemed everyone who saw him so was curious to feel him up uninvited, as though the eggs could be discerned through the protective layer of blubber. Few were as reverent as Ψ, though, and even those whose touch, and look, had been justifiably possessive could not match Ψ’s simple, joyous pride.  
“I’m not hurting you?”  
“No.”

Ψ hummed, pleased, and took a deep breath, seeming to steel his courage before reaching daringly upward. The movement aborted itself as Ψ grew suddenly hesitant, his face falling into uncertainty; his hands came to rest on Dualscar’s collarbone, and slid along it curiously for a moment. Slowly, they crept up, caressing his neck on either side. Dualscar shivered once - _cold!_ and deliberately relaxed. Ψ smiled; his hands joined around the back of Dualscar’s head, burying themselves in his hair. Dualscar’s pleased _mmm_ was answered by Ψ’s happy chirp.

Finally, after a long moment of fascinated rubbing, Ψ’s hands untangled themselves and drew carefully forward, around the sides of Dualscar’s head, cupping his cheeks. A thumb brushed at one fin, which flicked in surprise, until Dualscar willed it still. Both fins were stroked in tandem by metal thumbs; Dualscar leaned into the touch with a contented sound, and Ψ grew bolder.  
“It’th all right?” he asked, running metal fingertips over the topmost tines of each fin. In answer, Dualscar leaned farther towards him, trying to bring their faces closer together, whining. _Nuzzle me, touch me, yes yes yes…_ Delighted, Ψ started making a soft _chirr chirr chirr_ noise with each breath.

Eventually, having satisfied himself that Dualscar’s fins were something he could handle, Ψ shifted his attentions, and his hands, downward again, grabbing Dualscar’s oversized posterior in order to drag him closer, grinning all the while. Dualscar pulled a hand off Ψ’s back to repeat his side-poke maneuver: _not here/now._ Ψ’s grin didn’t fade; he simply hitched Dualscar up higher, pulling him entirely off the ground in order to sweep his hands down the back of Dualscar’s thighs and tickle at his knees. Dualscar twitched, kicked, giggled, and nuzzled at Ψ’s chin, as Ψ’s hands continued their journey down his calves. When they reached Dualscar’s feet, they stopped. Metal fingertips prodded and rubbed at Dualscar’s boots; Ψ wore a puzzled expression.

“It’th…different here?” he explained, by way of inquiry. “It doethn’t…thlide, like the retht.”  
“Mm,” Dualscar agreed. “The leather of my boots isn’t as smooth as the cloth of my clothes. I’m impressed you can feel the difference already!” He tugged one pant leg up. “Here, feel my stockings; those should be even smoother.” Ψ ran a hand up and down his calf with a delighted “Oh!”  
“It doethn’t catch at all! Tho…thmooth?”  
“Yes, ‘smooth.’” Dualscar poked his head back around Ψ’s side to address Equius, who had turned his back, but seemed to be blushing regardless, to judge by his ears. Well, Ψ’s chirrs had been _quite_ inviting, and _perhaps_ he had been inclined to answer in kind?  
Dualscar cleared his throat. “Equius, might you have some sandpaper he could feel, to offer the contrast of ‘rough?’ Or no, would that damage his hands?”  
Equius glanced back only briefly - definitely blushing – before trotting off toward a workbench on one wall. “I have some files that should do the job, and won’t cause damage so long as he doesn’t press too hard or too quickly.”

Ψ had one arm still wrapped around Dualscar; his other hand was exploring the blanket spread on the table. “Thith ith…not ath thmooth, right?”  
“The blanket’s wool; you might call that texture ‘scratchy.’” Dualscar suggested. “It’s a bit rough but not too unpleasant to hold against your skin. My coat is wool, too, but a tighter weave.”  
Ψ put a hand on each of them to compare, going “hmm!” After some rummaging and banging around, obviously unnecessary aside from giving himself a chance to cool down and towel off, Equius returned with the file. This, too, Ψ examined with interest, occasionally rubbing a hand over some convenient part of Dualscar as a comparison. (Dualscar had a sneaking suspicion the hand would be making for his ass even if it _wasn’t_ convenient.) There was a sound, nigh-inaudible, of a soft footstep behind him; he turned.

“Oh, Eridan! You’re awake!” Dualscar exclaimed, strangely pleased even as he realized how redundant it was spoken aloud. _He looks much better._ The boy was still shaking off sleep as Dualscar hurried over to join him. “Here, let me -“ Quickly, he pulled out his comb and gave the boy’s hair a few light strokes; finding no knots for it to catch at, he continued more briskly until he was satisfied Eridan had been set to rights again. “Did you sleep well? Want to wash your face? Or how about a drink of water?” he offered, finally stepping back so that his protective bulk was no longer blocking Eridan’s view of the table. “Actually, it’s probably about time for a break.”

Eridan smiled – had been smiling straight through Dualscar’. “I slept fine. Eq bored me right out -last thing I remember is somethin’ ‘bout articulated toes.” He nodded at Ψ. “You’re about half done, right? Lookin’ good. Yeah, guess I’ll go freshen up.”  
Ψ and Equius elected to visit a farther-away bathroom, to save waiting in line. It was easy, Dualscar thought, to simply follow after Eridan, who at least seemed to know where he was going. For a moment, he was tempted to see if he could find again the room where he’d met the lady Maryam, but he didn’t want to justify another roar of “AMPORA!” by wandering where he wasn’t wanted.

Back and the table and holding Ψ’s hand again, Dualscar shifted his weight back and forth, trying to get comfortable. Eridan stood beside him, looking bored. Equius was having some trouble getting Ψ’s new leg lined up properly, and was getting flustered, although that might have been more from the extra scrutiny than his current difficulty, as he’d been perfectly methodical in his work up ‘til now. Ψ shifted, turning towards Dualscar. “Here, Dee, lean back a bit.”  
Complying, Dualscar leaned back on his heels, and felt pressure against his knees, butt, and back. A moment later, he was sitting – reclining, really – in midair, hovering at table level. He sighed in relief. “Thank you, Ψ.”  
“And how about you?” A moment later, Eridan shrieked, flailing, as he rose perhaps a few inches in the air before Ψ set him carefully down again. “Man, he doeth that _every time_ I pick him up.”  
“Stop picking him up, then,” Equius grumbled, and then flushed bright blue, ducking his head.  
“Ordering about the peasantry again, huh?” Eridan sneered, shaken and trying to cover for it. “Sicko.”  
“How so?” Dualscar asked. Ψ began laughing until Dualscar moved to cover his mouth. “Hush a moment. I want to understand this.”  
Eridan gestured curtly. “He’s got, like, this _thing_ for givvin’ people orders. Or havvin’ lowwbloods order _him_ around, maybe.”  
_I think you’re taking out your anger on the wrong target._

“There’s no shame in getting off on orders,” said Dualscar, rather surprised. “Bluebloods are smack in the middle of the system, getting orders from above and handing them down on a regular basis. It’s natural that the ones who honestly enjoy what they’re doing do it best and go the farthest in life, right? Most bluebloods are like that – like you, I mean.”  
Equius had left off wringing his towel hard enough to leave holes, and was regarding him, wide-eyed and breathless, as if Dualscar had suddenly cured him of something fatal. “Really?” he asked. “Truly?”  
Ψ scowled. “Grhhff,” he protested impatiently, from behind one massive hand. Dualscar gave a long-suffering sigh; the _both_ of them, _honestly_.  
“Yes, truly! Why don’t we play it like this, since it sounds like we may be regular visitors: When we arrive, I’ll order you to fix whatever’s acting up – no, not your _attitude_ , Ψ, quit biting – which you’re going to do anyway. Then, when you’re done, you can order us to leave, which _we_ were going to do anyway. Ψ will _continue_ to be mouthy; I will continue to despair over the state of You Kids These Nights. You can get as sweaty as you please and I won’t so much as blink at it. That should satisfy everyone, right? All the bloodist, hierarchical nonsense you could desire, in one set of lightly scripted interactions.”  
Ψ managed to wriggle out from under his hand. “Dee, I have _no dethire_ to be involved in thith guy’th thick fantathieth in _any capathity_. Having hith handth on me ith bad enough.”  
“Mmm. Point. Almost like you’re our toy, that way. Well, what if _you_ give him the orders instead? I don’t have to come with you every time, or even at all.”

Equius made a strangled noise. Obviously, that scenario interested him at least as much. Ψ grinned, considering. “And he’d have to do what I thaid?” he said, looking crafty.  
“Within reason,” Dualscar allowed. “Provided it’s related to the prosthetics and their interface with your body.” He gave Ψ a playful hair ruffle. “Don’t imagine you can go making him fetch you drinks and food every time you come here!”  
“I wouldn’t, anyway,” Ψ insisted. “You’re a better cook.”  
Dualscar drew back his hand, perplexed. “Now how would you know that?” he challenged.  
Ψ nodded towards the opened hall door. “Thomebody made uth lunch.”  
He was right, Dualscar saw; there was a platter of what looked like hastily-assembled sandwiches sitting on the floor just outside the door. He glanced curiously over his shoulder, but the presence in the vent had vanished at some point.

_Hmm. Inconclusive. I’m willing to allow that it probably wasn’t a robot servant, as I didn’t hear anything mechanical or electronic in the hall._ He hopped down and retrieved the tray; it was clearly divided, with half the sandwiches filled with some sort of canned fish, and the other half…cress? Everything smelled all right, so he bit into one of the fish sandwiches (no taste of rot or poison) before handing another to his master.  
Equius had started on his own sandwich, and Dualscar noticed it seemed to be held together by some sort of creamy white cheese. “Ψ, do you want fish, or cheese-and-cress?”  
“Uhm. The thecond one.” _In other words, you’re tired of fish already._  
“ _Small_ bites, and remember to chew,” Dualscar lectured, as Ψ sat up to eat. “And try not to get cheese on your suit, I just washed it.”

There were two sandwiches for each of them – pretty clearly, someone had just spread half a can of fish between two slices of bread for the seadwellers – but Dualscar was too hungry to leave even a bite behind, let alone share. After he’d finished, he put a hand out, searchingly, and hopped back into his midair recliner, which remained where he’d left it. Eridan made a “!” noise and looked at him wonderingly, before sliding slowly down the table to sit on the floor with his back to one of the legs, hugging his knees.  
Equius cleared his throat. “Er. I could get you a stool?”  
“Nah,” Ψ waved him off, possibly as an excuse to show off his new hands. “He needth thomething for hith back.”

Dualscar ignored them both, reaching out to Eridan with a friendly smile. “Oh, don’t be like that. C’mere. You could sit on my lap!” He reconsidered. “Well, what there is of it. I guess you’d wind up perched on my knee, which might not be too comfortable.”  
“A _hem_.”  
Eridan _eep_ ed and scrambled to hide behind Dualscar as a stool floated over to thrust itself in his face. After a few more teasing feints, the stool settled onto the floor with barely a scrape. A long moment and deeply suspicious glance later, Eridan climbed up to sit on it; Dualscar offered him the hand that wasn’t holding onto Ψ’s. Eridan took hold of it, looking pleased.  
Beside them, Ψ made a noise of annoyance. “Here, let _me -_ ” The leg Equius was trying to attach twitched out of his grip. Ψ shifted until his stump was oriented vertically, and lined it up; it clicked into place. “ _There._ Now let me do the other one, tho they’ll match while you’re adjuthting them.”  
Equius stepped back, raising his hands in surrender, as Ψ detached his own leg and snapped on the replacement.

Eridan hunched away from the table, which conveniently leaned him into Dualscar’s side. “I don’t _like_ Psii’s touch,” he complained quietly. “It doesn’t feel like Sol at _all._ It feels _wwrong._ ”  
“Ψ’s touch is _unique,_ ” Dualscar agreed. “It’s more delicate than you’re used to, I expect; he’s had a long time to refine it.” He blinked, remembering. “Oh! Do you have an oral thermometer back at the ship? I need to track Ψ’s temperature.”  
“Uh…yeah,” Eridan said, surprised. “It’ll beep like crazy ‘cause it’s set to me right noww, but I think it’s reprogrammable for different blood colors.”  
“That should do nicely,” Dualscar smiled, “once we’ve convinced it that Ψ is not you-with-a-fever.”

“Dee?” Ψ suddenly looked worried. “It doethn’t – feel right. Like, they don’t want to move anymore.” The steady opening and closing of his hands had slackened to a mere twitch.  
Dualscar only got as far as a concerned look and a low “hmm” before Equius, looking up from his labors over the leg calibration, suggested, “You’ve been flexing them steadily for several minutes now, and while the artificial components will not tire, the same cannot be said of the organic muscles that they connect to. While such exercise will aid both recovery and integration, excessive amounts of it - continuing past the body’s natural endurance – may damage the tissues with microtears. In short: you’ve overexerted yourself, and you’re exhausted. Your hands will be able to grasp again, if you give them a short rest.”

Dualscar caught Ψ’s hands in his own to still them; they were trembling. “What do you mean, it will ‘aid integration?’”  
“Ah. With the nerve attachments complete, any use or manipulation of the prosthetics – even if they are maneuvered via psionics – will serve to strengthen the pathways to the brain, making them easier to move without psionics. Essentially, it will be possible to rebuild a sort of ‘muscle memory’ that will transfer from one set of prosthetics to the next via the programming – the coordination between the flesh and the mechanical will grow stronger with time.” He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I can’t do much for the rest of your body, or your mental state, other than similarly recommend a healthy diet and a lot of rest, and exhort you not to push yourself too far, too fast. Give yourself a chance to heal.”  
_But you have helped,_ Dualscar thought. _He’s been much more animated over the promise of new, working limbs, if only you knew._

“Wwho did th’ programmin’?” Eridan wanted to know.  
“The code is, er, primarily mine, but it may –“ he glanced back and forth between them –“please you to know that the younger Captor has insisted on reviewing it personally before it’s installed. I believe he wanted to make sure there were no, ah, compliance subroutines included in it.”  
“Awwww. No more makin’ people hit themselvves in the face?” Eridan was grinning. “But for all you knoww, he might’vve snuck one in himself!”  
“Er. No, I don’t believe so. I looked over the code again myself, afterwards, and found it to be substantially unchanged.”  
That was, perhaps, about as close as he could come to outright denying a seadweller, Dualscar guessed.

Ψ snickered. “If Little Me _did_ make my armth do thomething, I’d jutht be flipping you off more often than normal, in which cathe: How would you tell?”  
“Wwhat if he programmed your feet to kick my ass, instead?”  
“With all the time you thpend jutht thitting around, when would I even have the chanthe?”  
“That’d be awfully lazy of him,” Dualscar interjected. “Kicking your ass is _his_ job. It’d be a terrible slight if he delegated something like _that_.”  
Across the table, Equius coughed a polite “erHEM!,” and attention returned to the business at hand (and foot.)

“The initial nerve mapping has been completed. I expect the existing connections will have strengthened and started to develop minor branches by the next time you visit, which should be…” Here Equius and Eridan came together to compare schedules and bicker for a bit, Eridan scooting around the table for a better look at the calendar in Equius’ notebook. Something on the order of weeks, it seemed, unless problems arose? “Will you test his leg reflexes for me?” Equius asked, turning aside briefly. Dualscar shrugged, stepped forward, grabbed Ψ’s head, leaned over, licked a stripe up one ear, and bit it firmly.  
“NngyaAAHng!” Ψ shrieked, folding up and clutching at him, feet twitching. Dualscar regarded his curled toes with satisfaction.  
“They seem fine to me.”

He turned to face the poor scandalized boys, laughter in his eyes. “Oh, I know, that’s not what you _meant_. Hand me the little knee hammer, or whatever.”  
Blue-faced, Equius handed it over. Dualscar proceeded to amuse himself by bopping Ψ’s knees gently and watching his legs twitch; Ψ wore a look of consternation.  
“Are you _sure_ that’th not a complienthe thubroutine, _I’m_ not telling my leg to do that, how are _you_ telling my leg to do that…”  
“Hush, lovely. It’s to make sure all the muscles are lined up and communicating properly, and will work together to keep you balanced. Speaking of, let’s try a few steps, shall we? You look fine here; everything seems to be in working order.”  
Equius gave them a nod. “Yes, just around the room a time or two, if you please. Make sure everything moves smoothly and the fit is comfortable.”

Dualscar smiled at Ψ. “Want to just...follow my lead?” Ψ nodded. They’d _discussed_ this, of course, and it was certainly a thing Ψ could _do_ , or at least _thought_ he _should_ be able to do, but he (they) had never had a chance to _try._  
“All right.” Dualscar turned his back to Ψ, so they were both facing the same direction. “Arms first, for balance.”

He raised one arm out to the side and held it at shoulder level, palm more or less upright. There was a brief tugging sensation that started at his shoulder, stopped and came again at his elbow, then his wrist, and finally his fingertips. He raised the other arm, holding it steady as Ψ tethered himself there as well.  
“All set?”  
“Mm-hm.”  
Dualscar craned his neck back over his shoulder to watch as they lowered their arms in tandem.  
“Good! Legs next; it’ll be easier if you’re standing up.” He moved away from the table to clear some room for Ψ to stand. Ψ slid off the table and onto his feet. “Right, now, don’t cling too tightly to my shoulders and hips, because they’ll move at angles that won’t work for your body. I’m practically waddling at the moment, which is –“ He tipped his hand in a sort of _ehh_ motion, before remembering Ψ would mirror it. “Typically useful only on ice. Just focus on the general, overall motion.”  
“Aww. I can’t pop my hipth out like you do?”  
“ _What_ hips?” Dualscar said pointedly; Ψ chuckled along.

“Wwhat are you _doing?_ ” Eridan asked in obvious confusion.  
“Reverthe mirroring,” Ψ answered.  
“Mmm,” Dualscar added, thinking very hard about putting the mechanics of walking into words. There were gentle tugs at his knees and ankles as he spoke. “Regular mirroring would be, like, for dancers, where one partner moves their right foot and the other their left.”  
Ψ laughed. “Maybe when I can _walk_ , let’th talk about danthing?”  
“I feel like your lack of hips may remain a hazard until you put on enough weight that I can’t accidentally spear myself on your joints!” Dualscar countered. Having had the last word, he felt it time to get back to the point.

“Ready to follow me?” He resisted turning to look over his shoulder again; he had a feeling Ψ would mirror that movement, too. ( _Had_ there been a tug on the back of his skull?)  
“Mmm!” Ψ sounded eager; good. He’d listen better if he truly wanted to learn, but it wouldn’t do to let him get too frustrated if it didn’t come easily.  
“All right. I’ll start by picking up my right foot. Start by shifting the weight left – bend knee, flex ankle, push off, sweep the foot forward, down again, and shift your weight onto it. With me so far?” He’d only taken a small step, to start.  
“Uh huh.”  
“Good. Now, when you’re walking, I want you to try to shift your weight forward smoothly throughout each step. Even before your foot hits the ground, you should be leaning towards it. The exception would be if the ground were unstable and you were feeling your way a step at a time, but I don’t think you’ll ever have that problem.”  
Dualscar walked slowly around the room, commenting the whole while, always mindful that he was towing Ψ along behind him. “Remember to flex your ankle again while your foot’s in the air, so you’re presenting it to the ground heel-first. You won’t have to bend your knees very far unless you’re climbing something. For now, don’t worry too much about shifting your weight exactly like I do, so long as you don’t overbalance. You’ll find your own natural gait eventually, but the order of the movements will be about the same. Mind your arms, too; they’re your counterweights.” 

He took larger steps on his second circuit of the room, as Ψ’s natural stride would most likely be longer than his. The boys watched silently, Eridan with unfeigned interest and Equius taking notes with a critical eye. At one point, he felt a hesitancy, an almost-stumble, like a light kick at his ankle, and paused his motion long enough for Ψ to recover. “How’s he look?” Dualscar asked Equius, after they’d gone around twice.  
“Fine, quite fine.” The mechanic turned to address Ψ directly again. “Your psionic-assisted motion looks quite natural, but be sure to keep practicing moving your muscles directly. Not too much at first, no more than five to ten minutes per night –“  
Ψ mumbled something.  
“- Very well, _four_ to _eight_ minutes per night, until I see you again. And stop earlier if you get tired, or immediately if it starts to hurt. If the pain doesn’t go away and you think there’s something wrong with the prosthetics, contact me at once. Some soreness is to be expected from the exercise, though…” He rubbed his neck with a cloth, thoughtful. “Would you recognize the difference?”  
“I would,” Dualscar jumped in. “I could talk him through figuring it out, I think.”  
“Good. You know what to do for that, I’m sure.” Dualscar nodded: a warm bath would help, or extra water, or a massage. “ _Now._ ”

Dualscar’s fins drew back at the sudden change in tone as Equius’s focus turned fully upon him.  
“While you’re here, let’s discuss the specifications for the monitors to be buried with your eggs – with your permission, of course.”  
_The discussion or the burial?_ Dualscar fought off his alarm at the sudden attention. “Uh. Er, yes?” By Equius’s expression, more seemed to be expected. “What about them?” he asked helplessly.  
“What do you need them to track, exactly?”  
“ _Oh._ ” This, he knew. “Moisture and temperature, mostly; those are the two biggest things that can go wrong. Of course I’ll be monitoring them in person, too, but through a layer of sand, so I might not have the most accurate idea of what’s going on with the eggs themselves.”

Equius had flipped to a new page and resumed his notetaking. “How deeply will they be buried?” he asked. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to have a sample of the wet sand – say, a cubic foot or so – to test the transmission strength of various configurations.”  
“Oh, certainly. Ψ can bring it to his next appointment. Er, they’ll be something like -”  
Dualscar fumbled a rough egg-size with his hands, then stopped as Ψ copied the motion. “Ψ, you can unhook yourself now.”  
Ψ grinned at him.  
“Er, something like two to three egg-lengths…widths? Deep. Like,” he held his hands out, “here’s the egg.” He raised his top hand. “And there’s _this_ much sand above it. So it depends if you’re putting it, like, on _top_ of the egg or on the bottom.”  
“Ah. Hmm. Well, I expect the ideal case would be to have them installed about halfway up the side of each egg –“  
Dualscar let out a small involuntary hiss; Equius stopped short and looked at him.

Dualscar shook himself. _Don’t be rude_ , he reminded himself, but even the thought of a threat to his eggs raised his hackles. “Sorry. No. I can’t allow anything to actually _touch_ my eggs. They’ll be – let me think –“  
He calmed himself by considering the beach he’d only recently explored, so different from the usual patch of climate-controlled sand he was given.  
“Probably laid in a line, so they’re all about the same distance from the water,” he concluded. “So there’s going to be room enough for something small to be placed between them. I don’t like to crowd my eggs together.” He wondered, briefly, if that instinct was meant to keep them safe from predators. “It’ll be easier to get something into the bottom layer than to add it when I’m filling the hole back in and there’s sand flying around,” he admitted. “So, plan for them to be about yea deep.” He held his hands up again; Equius took a quick measurement, made a note, and _hmm_ ed thoughtfully.

“I made need more sand to test with than I initially thought,” Equius said.  
“Oh, another few gallons would be no more trouble than the first. Have you a container the right size?”  
“Of horse – er, of _course_ -“  
Suddenly, Equius was sweating a lot more noticeably, as Dualscar pulled back to blink at him. “Are you -?” Dualscar turned on Eridan in overdone feigned annoyance, giving him a mock glare that pinned the bewildered boy’s fins back. “You never _told_ me –“ He returned his focus to Equius. “Ah, I beg your pardon. It would have _behooved_ my descendant to tell me we were visiting a fellow equine type, so that I could bring along a proper hive gift!”  
There was spluttering all around, through which he explained that the seahorse, and thus the skyhorse, might be considered a distant cousin of the land variety, and what he’d expected to be merely a _business_ call was in fact a _social_ call. “Of course I expect we’re no _actual_ relation of yours, but still. It’s most impolite of us. I shall send a gift with Ψ when next he comes. Along with the sand, I mean.”  
“Er. Yes. The sand. As I was trying to explain, I’m sure I have an appropriate container, but it may take some time to find.”  
_"Mrrow."_

There was a soft noise from _somewhere_ \- Dualscar barely resisted the urge to whirl around and look for it, but his fins still snapped out straight and taut. Equius continued, addressing no one in particular.  
“It should be about the size of the space under my desk, with a tight lid to keep the moisture from evaporating on the way here. Ah, but I need to finish work on the external temperature monitors before you go. Well, let me get to work while I think about where I might have left such a container – perhaps in the exercise area upstairs?”  
He strode back over to his workbench and resumed poking at things with other things. To Dualscar’s surprise, Ψ floated over to join him a minute later.

It didn’t seem right to Dualscar that he should remain standing alone in the middle of the floor like a fool, but where should he go? A quick look around the room showed no immediate need for his presence anywhere. Eventually, he judged that Eridan, who was wobbling his stool back and forth, seemed the most likely potential source of an incident. Dualscar returned to the table to distract him before he fell over; at his approach, Eridan smiled and stopped wobbling. Equius was absorbed in his work, and Ψ was paying close attention to...Equius?  
Dualscar beckoned Ψ back over toward the table. “Leave the man to his own devices, Ψ. Let me fuss over you some more.” _Come distract me from the distant small scraping noises I’m pretending very hard not to hear,_ he carefully did not say, but his plea went ignored.

Ψ frowned suddenly, concentrating. “Here, show me your teeth.”  
“Eh?” Equius gaped at him for a moment; all Ψ needed. He pointed at Equius’s now-shut mouth.  
“That bottom one there, and at leatht one more on top, they’ve been broken a while and haven’t grown back in properly, right? Don’t they pain you?”  
“Well,” Equius began.  
_That’s ‘yes, but I don’t like to talk or even think about it.’ Hmff, bluebloods._ Dualscar turned away, back toward Eridan, who gave him another smile, which he returned.  
“...I suppose they do occasionally, but not unbearably; I’ve grown used to it. Besides, there’s not enough exposed surface left for extrAGHKTH!-“  
Equius cut off with a horrible strangled noise. Dualscar snapped his head around to look.

Equius, eyes wide in pained shock, was clutching at his lower jaw without actually touching it. Blood was dripping over his lip onto the floor.  
Ψ floated the tooth stump aloft with satisfaction, then set it gently down onto the workbench, expression softening. “I think a thing that _can_ be fikthed _should_ be.”  
“DAMMIT, Ψ!” Dualscar shouted, stepping forward and rapidly pulling at his neckcloth. He got it free and held it out, but Equius was already waving him off, pulling out a towel of his own to staunch the blood.  
“No, that’s all right,” he said once he’d got his breath back, somewhat muffled by the towel. “I understand. And I appreciate the gesture.”  
"He could at _least_ have warned you," Dualscar said hotly.  
Ψ shrugged. "Worrying about pain ith itthelf a form of pain."  
Dualscar relaxed, gradually, as he realized their host really wasn’t angry at the injury he’d been done. “Well. I suppose it was a well- _meant_ form of thanks. I’d offer you some ice for it, but this is _your_ hive.”  
“Quite.” Equius switched to a clean bit of towel and scooped up a set of small circuit boards covered with chips and wires and other bits Dualscar didn’t recognize. “These are done. If you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, I’m sure you can work out a way to attach them securely to both the prosthetics and his actual flesh – wrist and elbow may be easiest. I’ll be right back.”  
He absconded out the door and up the stairs. Muttering darkly, Dualscar managed to slip some long bits of wire through tailor-made slots on either end of the gauges, and attach them to Ψ with a simple twist or two in the right place.  
"How's the fit? Not too tight?" he asked when he'd finished.  
Ψ gave his arm a couple of light shakes. "Feelth fine. Lookth like they'll hold."  
"Good." Dualscar heaved a sigh and pulled Ψ into a hug. "Be careful, okay? I don't want you getting hurt."  
"Mm. Yeah. Thorry. I'll ekthplain mythelf better, maybe, nektht time."

A clumping down the stairs announced Equius's imminent arrival. Moments later, he reappeared in the doorway, with a bandage sling holding a bag of ice against his jaw and a large lidded plastic tub in his arms. "It was about where I thought," he said, holding it out, "so it didn't take too long to find."  
"Speaking of taking too long," said Dualscar with a sudden chill, "what time is it back at the ship?"  
_"Uh."_ Eridan, taken by surprise, consulted the clock and did some quick calculations. "Sunrise in...about an hour and a half?" he concluded, squeaking a bit.  
_"Gah!"_ Dualscar looked to Ψ, who gave him a confident nod. "Okay, we can still make it, but we'll have to really fly."

The three of them bustled back into the hallway and towards the front door, Equius trailing behind. Ψ took the tote from him as they passed.  
Dualscar cleared his throat. "Apologies, again, for descending on you unawares; you've been a most excellent host for all of that. Eridan mentioned you've hosted before?"  
"Why, yes, although things seem to be settling down now."  
Eridan didn’t respond to the poking. No matter; he could be gracious enough for two.  
_”Thank_ you for your most thoughtful service and gracious hospitality,” said Dualscar, dropping an extravagant bow to their host. Eridan jerked into motion and followed up with a shaky nod.  
“Uh. Yeah. Thanks, Eq.”  
Better than nothing, although not by a wide margin. Dualscar let it go; they’d have plenty of time to practice. “Now, now. He's shown great equanimity in dealing with us minor annoyances.”  
Equius held up his hands in refusal. “Ah, no,” he began uncomfortably, “I –“  
Dualscar drew himself up, as tall and imposing as he could manage, and affected his haughtiest tone. “Are you saying that you DON’T find us to be an annoyance? Neither me NOR my descendant?!” "  
He didn’t let Equius fluster himself much further before cracking a grin. “Well, we are. But, from now on…” He patted Ψ’s shoulder, well above the metal. “Ψ, you know the way, right?”  
“Yeth.”  
“Then you’ll most likely be dealing with him alone. But do call us if you need anything.”  
“No,” started Equius, “er, that is, yes, of course. But what I was _trying_ to say was that, er, the source of my equipoise is in fact external. So I shouldn’t take all the credit.”  
“Understood,” said Dualscar kindly. “Thanks to your balance for the sandwiches, then. Now, we've got all we needed, right?"  
"Oh, the milk!" Equius recalled suddenly. "Wait here and I'll fetch it. It'll just take a minute, I promise; it's right down the hall.”  
As the hall in question curved out of sight around a corner, Dualscar was not convinced, but Equius had already started down it.  
“I think I’ll call him Queue," Ψ announced.  
“For his hair, you mean? Or because you’ve been waiting so long for someone to do what he’s done for you?”  
Ψ grinned. “Ekthactly!”

True to his word, Equius returned with a jug only a minute or so later, apologizing profusely for the lack of a lid on the container. In the meantime, Dualscar had grown so used to the disembodied noises of Equius's _(haunted??)_ hive that he failed to attach any importance to the sound of feet scratching the ground outside until the door was booted open.  
"SURPRIIIIIIIISE, LOSERS!"  
Dualscar, filled with sudden dread, slowly turned to look, and facepalmed.  
"Just what I _didn't_ need tonight!" he complained. "A _Serket!_ "  
Ψ inclined his head at the new arrival. "Ith that _her?_ " he asked eagerly.  
"Of _course_ it's not _her!_ " Dualscar growled. "Just another bloody _descendant!_ "  
"Well, how wath _I_ to know?"  
They were talking over what was surely meant to be a brilliant and scintillating piece of self-introduction, but nobody seemed to care, except the girl, who looked decidedly nonplussed.

Eridan rounded on her. “Howw the hell did you knoww wwe wwere here? There’s no wway you wwere up that early, it wwas barely dark out!”  
“Er.” Equius was wringing his hands again. “She issued me – an invitation, of sorts, and I was forced to inform her that I would be otherwise occupied tonight, with the surgery.”  
Now Eridan rounded on _him_ , indignant. “Dammit, Eq! I trusted you!”  
“Why?” demanded Dualscar bluntly. “I thought he didn’t like you. You don’t, right?” he asked, turning to Equius in time to get a confused half-nod. “So why the hell would you trust him? You could have _faith_ in him, but not _trust_ : he _will_ double-cross you, dependably.”  
"What about me?" Ψ wanted to know. Dualscar shook his head.  
"He wouldn't sabotage his own work; he has too much pride as a craftsman. And it's _justified_ pride! - Oh, will you _shut up,_ girl!" He finally turned to face her. " _None_ of this is about you!"  
Plan A _(don't engage)_ had failed. It was time for Plan B _(engage only on your own terms.)_

"So anyhoww, this is Vvris." Eridan waved both hands at her dismissively.  
"Oh, your old black flame, of course," Dualscar realized, as Equius corrected, "Vriska Serket. My neighbor."  
Vriska was finally able to get a word in edgewise.  
"Soooooooo!" she announced. "You used to be my ancestor's kismesis!"  
This was obviously news to no one. As Dualscar had more than a suspicion where this was going, he sneered at her preemptively.  
“Don’t push me, lassie! Because I will _give_ , and you’ll see me splattered on the floor, all guts and bones showing, and that won’t suit your purpose at _all_. You’ll get no joy of me if you want me black, is all I’m saying. I'll make sure of it.”

Vriska pouted prettily, first plan foiled, but bounced back almost at once, face flush with excitement. “Tell me allllllll” - Dualscar set his face on “bored” as he waited for the word to end - “about her, the Marquise Spinneret Mindfang!”  
“The _’Marquise’_ – ” Dualscar broke off, wheezing with laughter and rubbing his brow. “Silly titch never could settle on one name.”  
“’Titch’?” asked Eridan, curious. Dualscar smiled, reminiscing.  
“Oh my, yes! She was such a lovely petite thing! Deadly as ice to look at, like she’d kill you slow and painful without even slowing her roll. Or noticing you, for that matter. She was even deadlier when you got to know her, and I was ever so pleased when she noticed _me._ I had inches on her even then, when I was just a young pup still having growth spurts – they taper off after you reach a hundred or so. Anyhow, I was sort of madly enamored of life, and I guess my enthusiasm caught her eye. Eyes.” He waved a hand vaguely at Vriska’s face; she looked nonplussed. “Anyhow, I think she had been going by ‘Webwoman’ or something before I met her, and had just changed it to ‘Mindfang.’ Later I knew her by other names, but that was the one I used.” _Used to make fun of, that is._

“What else did she like?” Vriska demanded, and he could _hear_ the inserted numeral ‘8.’ _What eighlse?_  
“She liked – lines with eight syllables,” he said, counting rapidly in his head, _”- which I_  
In a show of pitch, soon learned to deny.”  
"Hmph." The girl had given up her attempts at a sexy pout, and was now looking actually annoyed. Suddenly she grinned a wicked grin, and raised both her hands toward her head.  
"Wwait - don't - " Eridan reached for her. Equius, who had backed off, stepped forward again in evident alarm.  
Mental fingers skittered off the surface of Dualscar's mind; he shook his head, dismissing them. Beside him, Ψ started giggling, shading into a maniacal cackle. He leaned backward, grasping at nothing with both hands.  
“Oh yeth! MANIPULATE ME HARDER!!”  
Vriska made a _bluh_ face, and began waving and shaking her hands around her head, looking for all the world as if she'd just walked into a spiderweb.

Eridan stared in shock. "Wwhat wwas _that_ all about?"  
“Eh, can’t blame her.” Ψ tapped his temple and gave Eridan a smug grin. “Would _you_ want to live in my head?”  
Eridan shuddered, recoiling. Ψ laughed, the sound still a bit manic, but not mean.  
“If you thpend too long in me, you’ll jump out a window, thinking you can fly! I’M A SHIIIIP!” He stuck his arms out and ran in a circle, positively sparkling with amusement.

" _Enough,_ " Dualscar said. "We're running late as it is." He nodded politely, but firmly, to both of the bluebloods. "Good morning to _you_ , and, I suspect, good riddance to _us._ "  
And with that, they were away; the doors flung themselves open and the three of them and a plastic tub hurtled erratically eastward, jitterbugging off into the remains of the night –  
(“Ψ, _calm down!_ ”)  
\- pursued by a pitcher of milk.


	9. Clearing the Mess, Part 2

The wind noise was tremendous; Dualscar squeezed his eyes nearly shut and pulled his fins in tight, but the air still tore at him relentlessly. Suddenly the plastic bin was hanging in front of him, lid off.  
"Uthe thith!" Ψ shouted.  
He couldn't fit more than his head inside, or one shoulder, but maybe -  
"Eridan, come here!"  
Dualscar waved an arm at Eridan in a sweeping, scooping motion, and the boy floated closer. "You might fit in here."  
He did, it turned out, if he curled up and tucked his head to keep his horns from hitting the bottom. Dualscar stuck his face in to keep him company.  
"Maybe not _as_ comfortable a ride as that shuttle, but we're getting there, hey?" he joked, able to speak at an almost-normal volume once again. Ψ wrapped an arm around him from behind, snuggling into his back. "Next time, maybe we can install some windows."  
Eridan gave him a small, wan smile. Concerned, Dualscar reached out to pat him  
_(NOT ON THE HEAD!!)_  
on the shoulder.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked. "I'm sorry I didn't think to fill up a water bottle before we left. It shouldn't take us too long to get back at this rate, though."  
Eridan shook his head, bonking a horn off the side of the bin, and pulled out his compass. "Wwe're goin' the right wway, sure enough. An' damn fast, too."  
_If that's not what's worrying you, than what is, I wonder?_  
"It was nice to meet some of your friends," Dualscar offered as a change of topic. "Or...acquaintances?" he amended, as Eridan curled his lip in a sneer, "Hatefriends?"  
That got a nod. "Yeah, I guess." Eridan looked wistful.  
“They look about your age,” said Dualscar, conversationally. _Not that either would make a suitable moirail, in my mind; one’s already dumped him and it seems the other’s taken._  
“Mm. Oh, yeah, wwe’re all about the same,” Eridan answered, momentarily distracted; probably the spiderlassie was pinging rude gestures off his brain as a sendoff. “Same hatch, and all.”  
Dualscar wrinkled his nose. "What, you all hatched together in some coolblooded cavern? How could you know?"  
"No! I meant," Eridan laughed. "There's only one hatch on-planet at a time."  
Dualscar stared at him. “Wait, _everyone_ you know is the _same age?!_ ”  
"Yeah. Wwe're all supposed to go off-planet at the same time, an' then the next batch a' wwrigglers gets started. Howw else wwould they hunt dowwn stragglers an' deserters, if they couldn't do a clean swweep each time?"

Eridan explained, then, to Dualscar’s rising incredulity, how the world worked without adults in it: from the delivery of necessities to young trolls, to education, to FLARPing _(what??)_ , there was almost no troll involvement at all, as best he knew.  
" _Everything’s_ robot drones?!” Dualscar spluttered. "You mean it's not just _you_ that can't pop down to the store and buy a cabbage from some shopkeeper, there's _nobody_ running the shops?"  
"Wwell, no, some people do groww stuff or make stuff, an' you can buy it directly from them. Custom jewwelery's a big thing, fr'instance. But unless they livve in wwalkin' distance or one a' you can fly, yeah, a robot delivvers it. For a fee based on distance an' wweight, mostly."  
"So you don't actually get to _see_ other people hardly at _all?!?_ "  
Eridan shrugged. "Not outside a' FLARPin' or somethin' similar, no. _I_ sure don't."  
“FLARPing is…”  
“Oh, it’s a game! Or, more like a sport, see…” He rambled at length about rules, points, loot, levelled challenges, allowed weaponry, and so forth. Dualscar thought he heard Vriska and Miss Megido mentioned somewhere in there, but he wasn’t really taking in much through his growing distress.

“How the hell are you still _alive?_ ”  
“I’m – wwell – I –“ Eridan stammered defensively, “just got really _good_ at it!”  
Dualscar shook his head in disbelief. _Not what i meant._ “Tell me more about FLARPing – how did you get the Crosshairs to begin with?”  
"Oh! It wwas one a' my early quests with Vvris-"  
“Does _everyone_ play?”  
“Nah, but most evveryone uses th’ same chat program, so you can meet people that wway too.”

Gradually, Dualscar pieced together more, although some of it was guesswork, about how a world of children was managed: run from some central system, no doubt automated, that tracked points of interest - via satellites? Perhaps that was how the newly-hatched got onto the grid. And once they were accounted for, they would receive a stipend, used first to cover a basic computer; through that, they received such education as whoever had set up the system had deemed fit.  
_It must be such an empty world,_ he mused. _It used to be, no matter where you wound up, there was likely to be someone else around._  
“How could you live?” he wondered aloud. “I mean – you _need_ attention, don’t you? What if there’s no one around to give it to you?”  
“Wwhat do you mean?” asked Eridan, turning toward him, curious. Dualscar bit his tongue, belatedly realizing that he hadn’t actually mentioned that yet. He struggled to talk his way out of it.  
“I mean – I can’t imagine a worse world for raising a healthy breeder troll. It’s nothing like you need. You want to be the center of attention, right? Meet a lot of people, get to know them, find good mates, or, or, potential mates, I mean? But you can’t _do_ that without a lot of people around to _meet!”_  
_Quick, change the subject._ "I'm glad you broke up with Vriska, at least. Those Serkets are nothing but poison."

"Wwhat _wwas_ your kismesis like, really?" Eridan asked timidly.  
Dualscar snorted in amusement. “I called her ‘Minifang’ when we first parted – by accident, I swear! She was just so _tiny._ And then I left in a hurry, because I was embarrassed, but I could hear people chuckling. I think that’s why she hated me from the start – I had ruined an otherwise perfectly good name. I daresay my crew took the crashing noises in my room that night for a fit of black passion - spades at first sight! - rather than mortal embarrassment.”  
He lost himself in reminiscing for a moment more.

_We meet again… Mindfang._  
_I see you’ve taken the trouble to LEARN MY NAME! D::::_

Eridan cocked his head curiously, bonking into the side of the tub again in the process. “ _Ruined_ a name?”  
“She went through a _lot_ of names! Webwoman, Mindfang, Mindseye, Speyeder. ‘Spinneret’ is a new one, but it fits. Sounds like her all over.”  
Eridan snorted. “Don’t let Vvris hear you. She’ll get ideas.”  
Dualscar grinned. “Once I suggested Cataract; she said ‘ugh’ and ‘no’ and ‘keep your stupid hobbies out of my business!’ There were rumors that she’d rewrite her diary and burn the old one every time her name changed, too – so it would match her latest version of herself. Never could settle on anything and be satisfied with it, that woman. Eh, probably all her romances were doomed that way, for all I know. Not that a retconned diary would’ve preserved _that_. I imagine it got ‘improved’ with every rewrite.”  
Eridan was grinning, and laughing along; _good, he's in a good mood now._

"You certainly seemed to be gettin' chummy wwith Eq wwhile I wwas nappin'," Eridan said. "Does all that techie stuff really interest you?"  
Dualscar curled his knees up to rest them on the lip of the tub. "I'm old enough to have learned a little about everything," he admitted. "But I can always learn more. Obviously, _he_ thought it was interesting. Asking specific questions will only tell me about what _I'm_ interested in - what I think I need to know - rather than what an _expert_ thinks I need to know, so it's better to let people like that run their mouths as much as they want to, and ask questions later. Also, there's this," he said, winking at Eridan. “It’s _much_ easier to be interested in other people, even if it’s only an act at first, than to make _them_ interested in _you._ And the more you let them talk, the more interesting they’ll think _you_ are!”  
" _Hee!_ " Eridan giggled. "Is that true?"  
"Try it for yourself and see! It may be hard at first not to interrupt, but practice in shutting your mouth will never serve you ill."

Dualscar felt a shudder run through him - from behind. "Ψ, do you want to share my coat?" he asked, turning halfway around. Ψ snuggled into his shoulder, considering.  
"It fitth _you_ ," Ψ protested. "It won't fit me and it _thertainly_ won't fit the both of uth."  
There was something poking into Dualscar's hip.  
_?...Oh!_  
Carefully, he wriggled a hand down to address it.

“Want half an apple?” he asked, holding it triumphantly aloft a moment later.  
Both faces brightened; belatedly, he realized he’d neglected to specify, even to himself, whom the offer was _to_.  
“But then you don’t get any,” Ψ said, delight fading to a more serious look; Eridan followed, enthusiasm leaking out slowly.  
“Wwell, I wwant _part_ \- maybe a third?” Eridan was frowning at the apple as if it were a puzzle he couldn’t solve. Dualscar snorted, amused.  
“Here. I’ll just –“ He put a nail through the skin of the apple and began dragging it around. “Do _this_ -“ The line met around the middle of the apple; he took the top in one hand, the bottom in the other, and twisted.  
_Ssshhhhnack!_  
“There. Now you don’t have to share bites with each other, only with me.”

“You take the firtht bite, Dee,” Ψ encouraged, taking the first bite from his own half.  
“Yeah,” Eridan agreed reluctantly. “You’re bigger than me.”  
Dualscar wavered. “But…you’re still growing…”  
Eridan snorted. “Yeah, an’ Psii’s emaciated. Eat your damn apple; wwe’ll be home soon enough. Nobody’s gonna starvve on the wway.”  
Dualscar took a bite from the half still in his hand, then from the section Ψ thrust back in his face (never too large a portion, and he tried to chew slowly to make it last); the pieces went back and forth, gradually diminishing until they were gone, Ψ nibbling delicately at the last nub of the core before dropping it over the sea. _Wait, doesn’t this mean that **I** got half an apple, and they both got shortchanged?_  
Eridan licked juice off his hand with a satisfied air. Ψ looked likewise pleased with his snack, so Dualscar let the matter drop.

Soon enough, they were back at the ship, dawn threatening on the horizon as they touched down next to a stack of boxes.  
“Oh, looks like the stuff you ordered for Ψ arrived while we were out!”  
“I should _hope_ so,” Eridan groused, “after I paid for the express shippin’ an’ all.”  
Ψ sent the tub down to the hold and the groceries to the galley as Dualscar busied himself in the bathroom, and made sure everyone had a drink of water. "Here, Ψ, keep those sensors on a few more minutes," Dualscar said, sitting him down on the couch in front of the heater. "I want to send back a more accurate picture of the range they should be working in. Eridan, where's that thermometer?"  
“In the bathroom medicine cabinet, I think. An’ get him inta some _actual clothes already!_ ”

It was easy enough to find the thermometer, but it took quite a bit more digging to uncover the instructions. Dualscar decided to put everything back in order once he'd started the temperature log. While he was at it, he turned off and removed Ψ's sensors, and started an activity log to send back with them: _at Equius's hive/rapid flight, with passengers/sitting in front of heater._ "Remind me to have you wear these for a little here while before you go back to see Equius, all right?"  
Ψ nodded.  
“Also, I found your pants, but the other box was cabbages, so you’ll have to wait to change out of your flightsuit.”

"Eridaaaan," Dualscar called a little later. "This medicine's older than that almanac I was using. I think it's expired. What should I do with it?"  
Eridan wandered into the bathroom, and joined him in sorting out bottles. "Hmm. You're right." He examined dates carefully, eventually returning a bottle of painkillers to the cabinet shelf. "That one should still be okay, but definitely toss anythin' older. There's a hazardous wwaste bin up on the deck you can dump 'em all into, an' a bin next to it for recyclin' the bottles. I'll call for a pickup if they're gettin' full."  
"What did you do with food waste?" Dualscar asked, thinking of the buckets in the galley.  
"Dump it in the sea, or bury it in the sand," Eridan confirmed. "Depends on wwhether I wwas goin' fishin'." His voice softened. "My dad tended to eat up leftovvers before they wwent bad."  
Dualscar threw an arm around Eridan's shoulders, offering comfort where it was needed without letting himself overthink it. "Yeah, my da could be a real pig too," he said, smiling wistfully.

Dinner was a bit late,  
(“Oh! _Here’s_ where your new sweaters went, Ψ!”)  
but initially uneventful, aside from Ψ reveling in his new hands. He passed dishes and condiments without being asked, even if he had to pull them towards himself psionically to pick them up in the first place. Dualscar had switched back to the everynight plates, so he had no real worries about Ψ’s grip damaging the dishware.  
“Your, ah, hatefriend the mechanic is very talented,” he said conversationally, as Ψ passed him the vegetables for the third time. “I’ve really got to…hand it to him?”  
Eyes twinkling, he looked expectantly at Eridan, who groaned. “Are wwe really doin’ _hand puns_ noww?”  
Ψ cackled. “Two armth, my brotherth! Take up armth!” He smacked both palms down delightedly on the table, making the nearly-empty plates jump, then pulled back, frowning. “That – doethn’t feel right.”  
“Unpleasant feedback?” Dualscar guessed. “It’s probably meant to be pain, to keep you from damaging your hands, or, hell, damaging other things _with_ them; they’re really strongly made.”  
Ψ considered his new hands skeptically.  
“Anyhow it _would_ be painful to bang your hands onto the table like you were doing, so maybe be a bit more gentle with them? Sure, they’re built to take it, but that doesn’t mean they’ll _like_ it!” Dualscar said jokingly.  
Ψ grinned, strange and sharp. "They really do thuit me, then."

With the atmosphere lightened, Dualscar judged it safe to bring up a request. “Eridan, may I ask a favor of you again? I want to help Ψ practice climbing stairs, someplace where there’s something soft to fall on. May we borrow your bed -” he held up both hands “- just for that purpose? I can stack some crates for him to climb on one side.”  
Eridan looked dubious. "Can't he just catch himself if he needs to?"  
Dualscar let his hands fall back to his sides, so as not to wring them. "I'd prefer him to use his psionics only minimally while we're practicing, and I don't think I could catch him effectively myself right now."  
Eridan _hmmed_ , unconvinced. Ψ looked equally dubious.  
“Tho if I can’t uthe my thionicth, what am I thuppothed to do?”  
“Well, ideally, you’d catch yourself with your hands.”  
Ψ flailed his hands around his head irritatedly. “You _literally jutht_ got done telling me not to bang them on thingth!”  
“If you _were_ falling on the stairs, though, you could grab onto the handrail. You can grab onto me instead while we’re practicing. Unfortunately, the _actual_ stairs, I think, are too narrow for me to stand by your side and offer support, and anyhow a fall there could be much worse. At least, until you learn how to fall.”

“Wwhat’s wwrong wwith him usin’ his psionics, though?” Eridan asked. Dualscar grimaced.  
“Nothing _really,_ ” he admitted. “I’m just worried that if he relies on them instead of learning to use his body, it won’t get any stronger.”  
Ψ held his arms out in front of him, manipulating the fingers one at a time, then all together. “Uthe it or lothe it, hey? Ahh, don’t worry, Dee. From what Queue thaid, jutht going through the motionth will help, even if my brain ith doing all the heavy lifting at firtht. Show me what you want me to do, and I’ll try it.”  
Dualscar nodded at him, pleased.

“Wwere you plannin’ to stack the crates on the mattress?”  
Dualscar shook his head. “No, I think the footing would be too uneven. At least if he’s next to the mattress, he can fall towards it, or if he falls towards me I can catch him or push him the other way easily enough. And he can lie down and rest for a bit when he gets that muscle fatigue.”  
“What if he just slips, though?”  
“Then he’ll bang a knee, most likely, but at least he won’t also be knocking his teeth out on a higher step.”

Eridan considered, leaning on the table and tapping his fingers on his chin. “Wwhat if wwe put the mattress on the floor?” he suggested. “Wwould that wwork better?”  
“It might!” Dualscar agreed. “Is there room?”  
“I think so. If wwe move the bed outta the wway.”  
Dualscar beamed. “Great idea! We can check after supper. If not there, maybe another room.”

By the time Dualscar got up to begin clearing the table, Eridan was still prodding dubiously at the (obviously unwelcome) greens on his plate.  
“Eat your kelp,” Dualscar directed unthinkingly, and then stepped back, heart suddenly pounding.  
“Don’t _wwanna_ ,” Eridan complained. He took a small, reluctant bite.  
Ψ took on a crafty look. “More dethert for me, then.” This provoked a frenzied kelp-eating race, which ended mere moments later in twin choking fits.  
…Either he hadn’t noticed being bossed around, or he didn’t care. Still, he might realize it later, and retaliate. Dualscar resolved not to drop his guard so easily in the future. This descendent of his was proving _dangerous_ , especially in how his lazy manners led to a blurring of their respective roles. He mustn’t forget. He was still Eridan’s, and would likely remain so.

With the bedframe out of the way, the mattress fit on the floor well enough, just as Eridan had thought. There was even enough space for their makeshift stairs, once they’d retrieved some sturdy crates and boxes from the hold, although Dualscar had to squeeze in next to the wall to act as a spotter. The “steps” weren’t of uniform height, but they were at least heavy enough not to be shifted easily; this was just practice for Ψ to learn the motions needed for stair-climbing, Dualscar reasoned. He made sure to walk Ψ through a few safe falls before they began.

On his first try, Ψ failed to lift his foot far enough and stubbed his toe. “Augh.”  
“Try again,” Dualscar urged. “Lift your foot a bit further on the approach.”  
Ψ tried again, this time abruptly lifting his knee so high that he overbalanced and toppled over backwards. Dualscar pushed his falling body towards the mattress.  
“Are you _sure_ people actually do thith?” Ψ asked once he’d stopped bouncing.  
“Climb stairs, or lie on mattresses? Yes to both.”  
Ψ grinned, and held out an arm so Dualscar could help him back to his feet. “At leatht thethe kneeth move more thmoothly than the latht thet? Right?”  
“Yes, ‘smoothly’ is right,” Dualscar told him. “You could even say you’ve got some ‘smooth moves.'”  
Ψ waggled his eyebrows at Dualscar, tripped on the first step again and fell onto the second crate, knocking over the third. “ _Augh!_ ”  
Dualscar sighed.

Eventually, Ψ managed to wobble his way up to the first step, and from there to the second. “Excellent!” Dualscar told him. “Next time we’ll work on alternating feet, all right? It’ll make climbing much quicker, once you get the hang of it.”  
Ψ sent the crates back down to the hold while Dualscar went to check in with Eridan. “We put your bed back together,” he said. “Thanks for the loan. We’ll probably want to borrow it again for more practice once or twice before I let Ψ try the regular stairs.”

Eridan looked away from his computer long enough to ask, “That didn’t take long. Howw’s he doin’?”  
“Well, I think,” Dualscar said, “but it’s a slow process and will need a lot of reinforcement, a little at a time. It’s a good thing the metal’s so sturdy, or he’d be covered in little dents from knee to toe. He says the pain fades quickly after they’re hit, though, so at least the artificial parts won’t feel bruised or sore.”  
“Everything _elthe_ hurtth,” Ψ complained, draping his upper half over Dualscar’s shoulder dramatically. Dualscar patted his shoulder in sympathy.  
“Come on, time for a hot bath. You can soak out the aches.”  
“ _Noooo_ , don’t wanna moooove,” moaned Ψ, as Dualscar carried his near-weightless form down the hallway.  
“You’ll feel better, I promise! You can have a massage, too, to put all your muscles back to rights.”

After Ψ had had a good long soak in the guest bath, Dualscar made good on his promise. He’d swiped enough throw blankets to lay out a thick pad on top of a long desk – more of a table with drawers – that Ψ had retrieved from...somewhere. An unused room, hopefully. He began with Ψ’s neck and shoulders, working out the kinks. As he passed Ψ’s elbows, he hesitated, feeling foolish: what would be the _point_ of relaxing muscles that didn’t tire? But…he was doing it for Ψ’s sake, and maybe it would help him to feel how the artificial and natural parts merged. Anyhow, it ought to feel nice if it felt anything at all. Reassured, Dualscar swept his hands lower to rub gently at Ψ’s fingers and manipulate his wrists.  
They twitched in his grasp. “Ticklish?” Dualscar asked.  
Ψ purred a sort of “ _mmmm_ ” sound, noncommittal.

Dualscar shifted down and started again on his feet, pressing deeply to feel the pattern of fibers that marked the artificial muscles, not so very unlike the placement and texture of real ones. The…“skin,” he supposed, was thinner than he’d initially thought. Dualscar ran his fingers over it lightly. Metal, metal, metal, hard and unyielding, and yet Ψ gasped at his touch. His foot twitched spasmodically as Dualscar explored it. _Ticklish, indeed!_ Experimentally, Dualscar moved his caress further up: metal, metal, flesh. Ψ seemed to make no distinction between them; the attached bits must already be well integrated with his own. _How strange._

Often and often had Dualscar held him, his small and helpless love, drugged and weak; often had he sheltered Ψ, shielded him, given him rest and comfort well beyond needed pleasures. The metal he now wore did not truly seem to be _Ψ_ , and yet Ψ clearly disagreed. He writhed, he purred. He was, thought Dualscar, kissing him, being _thoroughly_ distracting. _And I could use more such pleasant distractions in my life._

And so went the morning. Dualscar made sure to say _good day_ to Eridan on his way to dump Ψ into the recuperacoon, and then went to have a good wash himself.  
“Everything all right?” he asked Eridan again once he got out. “Do you need a drink, or a snack?”  
Eridan pivoted his chair around. “Nnnno,” he admitted, but seemed reluctant.  
“You should get some sleep,” Dualscar suggested gently. “It’s been –“ A yawn caught him unexpectedly.  
Eridan laughed. “It’s been a long night, yeah. _You_ should go ta sleep too!”  
“Thank you, I’ll do that,” Dualscar agreed. He’d meant to protest further, but his fatigue had caught up with him all at once. There was a perfect spot for a pillow next to Eridan’s chair, but Dualscar had a feeling that if he sat down and got cozy now, he’d have trouble getting up again. Anyway, he’d probably paid enough attention to Eridan for one night already. Instead, he turned away and trudged down the hall to join Ψ, who was sleeping like the dead, but with somewhat more snoring.

They woke twined together in their shared recuperacoon, Dualscar slowly and Ψ all at once, bursting with energy. Dualscar smiled at him lazily, with half-lidded eyes. “See? Didn’t I say a good rubdown works wonders?”  
Ψ grinned back, bouncing upright. “You were right!” he caroled, and launched himself over the lip without even wiping off the slime that dripped from him. Dualscar sighed and being laboriously hauling himself upright. “Feet on the floor!” he chided. Ψ settled fully to the floor, slipped in his slime puddle and automatically threw his arms out for balance. “Whoah.” After he’d regained a mostly upright position, Ψ waved his elbows about, perplexed. “How do my feet make my armth move, again?”

“It’s to do with balance and coordination, all your parts working together, that sort of thing.” Dualscar had managed to hoist himself to the lip of the ‘coon, and was eyeing the drop to the slimy floor with some distaste, trying to decide if he really wanted to face it so early. A grinning Ψ picked him up gently and floated him over for a kiss. Dualscar's feet found the floor at last, and he stood firmly, not minding the slime, as lips teased at his over and over. Then, of course “I think I’m _hungry,_ ” Ψ suggested, as if trying on the concept.  
That earned him an indulgent smile. “Likely. Let’s try you on some toast and jam. And I don’t mind if you float through the ship on the way there, but we’ll go for a walk afterwards to get you used to your new legs. For now, you can cheat on the stairs.”

Eridan didn’t join them for breakfast – evidently he’d stayed up late trolling one of his friends again, so Dualscar left a few extra slices of toast in the toast rack. If he preferred it hot, the leftover slices wouldn’t go to waste, as the two of them could eat it for a snack later. Ψ loved sweet things, and would happily gnaw on anything containing or coated in any kind of sugar, provided he was reminded to swallow occasionally.

The two of them then descended to the hold, where Dualscar spent a few pleasant minutes fussing quietly over Ψ’s clothes until he was reassured that they were warm enough for an excursion outside. Ψ huffed a sigh, smiling indulgently at the attention. Together, they walked down a wide plank, off the ship and onto the beach, hand in hand, in near complete silence. They hadn’t gotten far before something brought Dualscar up short. Ψ made a “?” noise as Dualscar turned back to regard the ship, fins and eyes wide, searching intently. _What stopped me?_

The sound came again.

_creeeeeeee_

It was very small, and far away. Dualscar’s eyes swept over the ship, from the ragged holes in the hull to the jagged line of the prow (and why did it niggle at him, now, that crooked spearpoint?) Further up, he scanned the windows of the blocks piled upon halls, heaped up in a mound until at last, he reached the stump of mast that stuck up through all of it –  
\- Had that been a flash of blue-on-blue, fluttering in the wind? Or merely a trick of the early-evening light?

“Ψ,” Dualscar asked, “would you wait here for me, please? I don’t expect to be gone long.” Without waiting for an answer, he walked back into the hold and began to climb the stairs

This time, the deck was bare; the wailing was definitely coming from high overhead. Dualscar glanced around. Eridan could be up in the crow’s nest, he reasoned. Or rather, on top of the cabins nearest the broken mast that had once held the crow’s nest. The access was through a hatch in the roof of the forward cabin, and - how the _hell_ did he know that? It wasn’t visible from this angle! And he’d only had a brief tour of the upper levels. Looking at it, the most obvious access would be having a door in the _side_ of the uppermost block - _but no,_ he thought, _the lower room on the other side, there’s a cord and a pull-down stairway, and then a hatch, and another cord to pull the stairs up again._  
He had a vague, discomforting notion that the hatch was notoriously hard to open, too. He shook himself, and resumed his climb.

There _was_ a folding stairway in the side room, and moonlight filtering in through the open hatch – he saw it almost as soon as he reached the penultimate landing. (There was a narrow set of stairs that went even higher, into the topmost attic, but thank goodness, he didn’t need to tackle those now.) Dualscar paused to catch his breath; that had been a _lot_ of stairs.  
_Right, he’s feelin’ down again for whatever reason, so I’ll need to be extra cheery._ Had Eridan _not_ gotten enough attention the previous night, after all? Struck by a pang of guilt, Dualscar attempted to shake it off by bulling his way up the last set of steps.

“Good evening, Eridan!” he called cheerfully, as he poked his head out the top. He caught a glimpse of the boy ducking behind the mast, and contemplated following him, but only for a moment before he had to laugh.  
“Goodness, I don’t think I’m going to _fit_ through here! My shoulders, yes, but my belly would scrape on the stairs.” He stuck one elbow out on the roof to support himself. “Eridan?” he repeated, slightly concerned; the boy still hadn’t reappeared. “I can’t get any closer. Will you at least show me you’re all right?”  
Eridan sulked around the side of the mast and flopped down dramatically at its foot before drawing his legs in close and glaring at Dualscar over the tops of his knees.

_Oof. This might be tricky._ Dualscar turned up the charm, going defenseless-shy. “I’m sorry if I did something to upset you.”  
“You wweren’t there wwhen I wwoke up,” said Eridan. He looked despondent and sounded accusatory. “Not upstairs nor in the galley, either. An’ I couldn’t see you anywwhere around out here.”  
“Oh,” Dualscar said, a bit guiltily. “That’s right. We were down in the hold.” _I think Ψ’s right, that me trying to play at being “small” with him is pretty ineffective._  
“The _hold?_ ” Definitely accusatory. Dualscar shrank back.  
“I was going to take Ψ out for a walk – get some exercise and try out his new legs.” _If I’d known you were about to wake up, I’d have waited for you_ rang false, even inside his head; he didn’t chance it. “I didn’t know when you’d wake up,” he offered instead, apologetic. “I left you some breakfast, though.”  
Eridan sat up straighter at that. “You did?”  
Dualscar brightened at the positive response. “Yes, I made extra toast in case you wanted some! You can have anything you like on it – oh, but it’s probably gone cold by now. I can make something else, if you’d rather!” He plastered on his biggest smile, grumbling inwardly. _Dammit, this would go so much faster if only I could reach him._  
“No – toast is okay. You were goin’ out wwith Psii, though.”  
“Yes,” Dualscar said, nodding. “I hadn’t planned to go far, just along the beach for a bit.”  
Eridan deflated a little. “Wwell, I don’t wwanna interrupt wwhat you wwere doin’. Go on back.”

He hadn’t resumed his full-body hunch, which Dualscar chose to take as a good sign. “If you’re sure,” he started to say, not at all sure himself. Then he caught himself; it wasn’t his place to second-guess his master. “All right, I’ll leave you be for the time being. At least put on one of your capes, it’s drafty up here. Here, take my coat...”  
Eridan waved him off. “You don’t havve to look after me evvery minute.”  
“I know,” Dualscar confessed. “I just – worry, is all. About you, yes,” he nodded to Eridan’s surprised look. “About everyone, really! It’s just who I am. Anyhow you’re my _descendent!_ I’m _allowed._ ”  
Eridan was smiling at him now. He had uncurled from his tight ball, and seemed amused. “I’ll come dowwn soon, I promise, an’ I can get my owwn breakfast. You go take your wwalk.”  
_He’s looking better; might be he’ll bide awhile now._ “Right,” Dualscar agreed, and unthinkingly swung the hatch shut as he retreated down the stairs.

There was an immediate, muffled squawk. “ _Don’t – aghh!_ This thing’s fuckin’ _impossible_ to open!”  
_Shit, I forgot!_ Dualscar tried to ram his shoulder into the hatch door from below to reopen it, but had no success. “Stomp down on the middle while you’re pullin’ on the cord!” he shouted back.  
The hatch creaked, cracked open, and was pulled all the way back to land on the roof with a thump. “Thanks,” said Eridan, looking flustered. He set a foot on the top step. “Guess I’ll come inside noww after all.”

Dualscar was rooted to the spot, surprised enough for both of them. “How did I know that?” he asked, demanding an answer from the world at large.  
“Hmm?” Eridan looked down at him, shaking Dualscar out of his trance. _Right, I need to get off the stairs so he can get down._  
“This wwas your ship, as far as I could find out,” Eridan said, pulling the hatch shut again as he backed down the stairs. “I didn’t wwanna say anything, though, in case you didn’t recognize it. I mean, it is a wwreck, an’ documents that old ain’t alwways trustwworthy, so I couldn’t be sure. Plus I remember it bein’ in wworse shape wwhen I wwas young, so it’s gotten fixed up some since I found it, an’ it prob’ly got looted at least once before I wwas hatched. Some a’ the furniture might be original, though,” he added shyly, as Dualscar’s mind reeled.

_**My** ship?_ He had to consider it carefully, dredging up everything he could remember, one hand on his mouth. Old and new memories matched at several points. “Yes,” he concluded eventually. “Not a ship I spent a lot of time on, but I can believe this place was mine, once.”  
“It’s still –“ Eridan began urgently, but Dualscar cut him off, patting his shoulder.  
“No, indeed, it’s yours now, Eridan. You’ve claimed it and made it yours. Ain’t that the pirate way, and the privateer’s too?”  
Eridan puffed up a little with pride, and grinned joyfully.  
“My old ship,” Dualscar continued, full of nostalgia. “Well. That _does_ explain why the countertops are the right height for me. Probably one I commissioned, or even designed.”  
_What was her name?_ he wondered. “Did you rename her?”  
Eridan shook his head. “No point; this ship hasn’t sailed since long before I wwas hatched. I had other wways a’ getting’ about.”

As Eridan folded up the steps and swung them back into position, Dualscar looked curiously at the sticky hatch. “How do you open it from this side?”  
“Sorta the reverse, I guess – I just keep pressin’ an’ pullin’ different spots until it givves. I hardly evver use it.”  
“Oh.” For a moment, Dualscar had been worried that the hatch was simply left open all the time. He turned and led the way out of the room. “All right, so what do you want on your toast? Jam? Honey? Nut butter? Cinnamon sugar?”  
_I still need an excuse to hug him or something – ah!_ “Here, let me fix your hair.” He steered Eridan to a stop in front of a convenient mirror. Eridan chirped in pleasure as the comb ran through his hair, and Dualscar was finally able to relax. _Feels nice._  
“Yours probably needs a trim,” Eridan said, looking up to meet his eyes in the reflection.  
Dualscar smiled back at him, tugging gently through thick waves momentarily devoid of styling product. “Aye. No rush, though.” For once, he wasn’t inclined to grimace at his own ragged look. “I think I’ll make tea. D’you want tea with your toast?  
“Tea, sure.” Eridan grinned. “You’re awwfully hung up on me gettin’ breakfast today.”  
“Well, it’ll get your blood sugar up and you’ll have more energy,” Dualscar nattered on as they clomped down the stairs together. “Even just getting a little something inside you can make you feel better all over.”  
Eridan nodded, then snorted. “Sorry. Nothin,’ it’s just that Sol might say that an’ mean somethin’ totally different.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Dualscar said as he rejoined Ψ, who was loitering around in the hold, poking at the junk. “I got Eridan calmed down and fed, and he’s up looking through the damaged books you pulled out. Looks like I’ll need to start setting aside a little more time for him at the beginning and end of each night. Oh, and it turns out this was _my_ ship way back when! One of them, anyway. This is obviously a hiveboat, not a pirate hunter.” He considered the sand outside for a moment before shedding his boots and stockings. “Shall we resume our stroll?”  
He offered his elbow to Ψ, who linked arms with him eagerly.

Dualscar sighed contentedly as they walked out onto the beach once again. “Could there be anything more romantic than walking along a beach in the moonlight?”  
After a moment’s thought, Ψ answered his rhetorical question. “Thickbed confethionth, maybe?” He flattened his ears back at the look Dualscar gave him. “I dunno, I think comforting thomeone in their hour of need can be pretty powerful thtuff.”  
“That _is_ true,” Dualscar admitted. “It’s not my favorite trope, but it’s no less classic. What else…flowers? Candy?”  
“Giftth, yeah,” Ψ agreed. “Or tathkth! Like, doing a thing for thomeone that they can’t do themthelveth. Or, um…poemth?”  
“Another classic! Letters, too, even if they’re not in verse.”  
“What were the traditional courting giftth where you were from? We gave bread, broken crockery, or a knife with or without blood on it, depending on the quadrant.”  
“Oh, no, I always heard that giving a blade was bad luck for your relationship…”

Dualscar reveled in the feeling of the damp sand on his feet, between his toes, so well-remembered and yet so strange. Occasionally, he had to tug down on Ψ’s wrist to keep his feet on the ground as they chatted, but even this familiar exasperation was not enough to allay a sense of something foreign, alien, about the place. For some reason, there was a growing sense of dread, not quite panic, matched closely by a growing annoyance with himself for being afraid of – what, exactly? He looked closely all about him for the source. Nothing obvious. Finally, he looked up.

Well. It was the night sky. Wasn’t it?

“Ψ,” Dualscar said – and his voice sounded strange to him, small and shaky, like he felt – “the sky is _wrong._ ”  
Ψ gripped his hand tighter, and settled back to the sand again. They’d left a very strange-looking line of footprints behind them. “Wrong how?” he asked, matter-of-fact.  
“I don’t _know!_ ” Dualscar wailed, almost in tears. “It’s, there’s, something’s _different,_ and I don’t _remember!_ ”

Slowly, Ψ tipped his head back, turning his face to the sky, until he seemed to be basking in the moon’s light. For a long moment, he looked puzzled. “Oh!” Suddenly his face lit up; he turned back toward Dualscar, smiling reassuringly. “I bet I know what it ith! The thtarth have moved!”  
“Moved? But…”  
“They _do_ move.”  
“I know _that!_ ”  
“It’th jutht we don’t uthually notith, thinth they don’t move much relative to a planet. You wouldn’t thee a change for probably hundredth of thweepth. And gueth what! We’ve been gone hundredth of thweepth!”  
Ψ was babbling happily and flitting back and forth, tethered by Dualscar’s arm. “You uthed to guide yourthelf by the thtarth, right? Tho it maketh thenth that you’d get dithoriented when they don’t match up anymore. It’d be like you thtepped into a parallel univerth where you don’t quite fit!”  
Dualscar patted Ψ’s wrist to get him to calm down. “Well, that’s certainly true. Everything’s a little unfamiliar still – which is strange, because I used to know this place, this ship, so _well!_ But then, I’ve _grown,_ haven’t I? Never stopped growing, really. It just slowed down to a crawl, like the movement of those stars.”  
“The movement we thee from _here,_ anyway,” Ψ agreed. “Thome of thothe thingth are abtholutely _thcreaming_ through thpace.”

“So.” He tried to wrap his mind around it. “The stars have shifted. Just like the language.”  
Ψ nodded vigorously, and righted himself to allow Dualscar to wrap both hands around his waist and guide his feet back to the beach. He giggled. “That tickleth!” He dragged one metal foot through the sand, and then wiggled his toes in it. “Ooh! Oh look, my toeth are moving!” He hopped sideways, nearly overbalancing as he tried to show off his foot.  
“Good!” praised Dualscar. “Keep working on your fine motor control. You’ll be able to move everything soon, at the rate you’re progressing.”

\--------------  


“How’s it going?” said Dualscar, poking his head through the ballroom doorway.  
“Pretty wwell!” Eridan said, straightening up to face him. He gestured to the two piles on the floor. “A feww a’ these rare books, I’d like to keep, evven damaged. But the rest can go.”

Dualscar knelt down carefully to examine them. “Good work!” he praised. “If you don’t have someone in mind to give them to, we can just get a chest for the discards and bury it somewhere.”  
Eridan blinked at him. “You mean like, _literally_ bury it?”  
“Yes, of course! It’s not especially _valuable_ treasure, so it needn’t be a very fancy chest, but we could at least wrap the books in something waterproof so they won’t get damaged any further. Listen!” he replied to Eridan’s continued stare. “As a seadweller, you should _never_ be generating actual _trash._ If the things had absolutely _no_ use left, you could burn them. They’re still legible, though, so you might as well pass them on. And if nobody _wants_ them, you can at least make them fun to find. Bury them, and start circulating a few maps to where they’re hidden.”

A grin slowly grew on the boy’s face. “Wwho do I givve the maps to, though, if nobody wwants the books?”  
“Oh, you don’t _give_ away a treasure map!” Dualscar gestured expansively. “You leave them sticking out invitingly from bags or drawers, or you pretend to pass out on top of them in bars, or anything that’ll wave it in people’s faces as a thing you’re trying to hide. The first small act of theft or snooping just encourages further curiosity.”  
“So you’re _basically_ just standing up an’ yellin’ ‘I’VVE GOT A SECRET’ an’ not tellin’ what it is ta hook people in, then?”  
“Well. Essentially, yes! Everyone loves secrets, especially other peoples’, right? Ah, and make sure you label the maps vaguely, like ‘lost knowledge’ or something! Any old thing can _become_ a treasure, if you go to all that trouble to get it.”  
“Or to get _rid_ of it?” Eridan laughed. “I guess I alwways wwanted to havve a treasure of my owwn to bury. I nevver kneww it wwas so easy, or I’d havve cleaned up _swweeps_ ago!”  
“You know the saying: one troll’s trash is another troll’s treasure! And rather than _find_ that particular troll ourselves, we need only _dispose_ of the trash in such a way that the treasure hunters _can_ find it.”

Eridan looked dazzled by the thrill of possession. _I’m gonna bury this treasure, and dig up another one!_ “Any more tips for a first-timer?” he asked, piling up the books he wanted to keep.  
Dualscar began stacking the discards neatly to get an idea of what size chest they’d need. “If you’ve got a place in mind to put it, you can start working on a basic map – just outline the coast, for example, and fill in the trees and such while you’re picking the spot later. Are there other islands nearby? I wouldn’t recommend burying it in your backyard, here; that’s a little too obvious. Nobody would be able to make a secret out of digging it up.”

”That feels lazy,” Eridan agreed, flicking his fingers. “Let me check – I’vve got a folder of maps of places I’vve gone treasure hunting myself. One a’ those might do.”  
“There _are_ places so popular, you barely need a map,” Dualscar acknowledged. “Or at any rate, there _were_. You could find half-a-dozen burial spots on some of the nicer islands, and that’s before you’d planted your own goods! Those tend to be the less valuable treasures, though, just hidden for fun, like ours. One time I recovered a chest full of coiled springs that exploded into my face when I opened it, although I’m _fairly_ sure that one had been intended expressly for me.”  
“Pfft! _Ahahaha!_

“You need help burying thomething?” Ψ asked curiously, floating through the doorway before settling back down onto his feet. _Goodness, his legs must still be tired out from our walk._  
“Yeah, wwe probably wwill! Once wwe figure out wwhere wwe’re goin – or no, I guess wwe gotta get the box first – hang on, these books are still good –“ Eridan tried to move in three directions at once, nearly toppling his “keep” pile.

Dualscar pointed to the books Eridan was trying to pick up. “Ψ, would you move that smaller pile back downstairs for us, please?”  
“I can get it,” Eridan countered, grabbing at a book as it floated out of the stack he was gathering in his arms.  
“It’s safer this way,” Dualscar insisted. “You’re less likely to trip on the stairs with your hands free. Even if you could lift that whole stack, it would block your view of your footing.”  
Eridan grumbled, releasing his hold on the rest of the books. He gave a sort of rude dismissive wave in Ψ’s direction.  
“So wwe’re just keepin’ him around in case wwe need somethin’ heavvy movved?”  
“Wellllll…” Dualscar grinned. “I _have_ been putting on weight lately…”  
Eridan made a disgusted noise.  
“You ain’t _furniture!_ ” he pointed out.  
“Yeah, Dee!” Ψ chimed in with his own objection. “I’m not jutht a _hauler,_ I can do _prethision_ work too–“

Eridan grumped right over him as they crossed the deck. “If that wwas _really_ all you wwanted, I coulda called Ara in ta do it, or hell, Eq. He’s got the muscles, an’ he’s been wworkin’ on finesse. He hardly evver breaks stuff noww.”  
Dualscar attempted to dodge the issue (and Eridan’s steely gaze) by cutting around Ψ to open the door to the lower decks (not that Ψ couldn’t have done it himself, even if he _hadn’t_ had both hands free.)  
Ψ took on a distant look. “I’m pretty sure I uthed to know thome guyth like that. You shouldn’t drink with them, and you sure ath hell don’t pick fightth with them, either. He’th a…” His expression wavered (though the books stayed steady) as he followed Eridan and Dualscar into the nearest library, still hunting for the word. “Kinetic, right?”  
“Wwhat, like you?”

_Ψ may not be one to mince oaths, but he sure as hell can’t pronounce them, either._ This one seemed to a mix of “fondling,” “slurping,” and “sucking,” along with at least one orifice and a bodily secretion, mangled into incoherence. “Did I (more gibberish) _thay_ ‘telekinetic?’ No, I did not! _Obviouthly_ hith power ith confined to hith body!”  
Eridan had slowly retreated from the madman in front of him, and now seemed to be trying to press himself straight through Dualscar to reach the far end of the room. Dualscar coaxed him down onto the sofa and wrapped the edge of his coat around Eridan’s hip as reassurance: _don’t fear, you’re shielded._ The boy relaxed, but didn’t take his eyes from Ψ.

“Eq’s _strong_ ,” Eridan explained, “I mean like, allcaps-STRONG, it’s like a medical condition or some shit. At least, for bluebloods.”  
“Is it a condition he _got_ ,” Dualscar asked delicately, “or has he always _had_ it?”  
“Er. Alwways had it, I think. From wwhen he wwas young, at least.”  
Ψ was still looking put out; he sniffed contemptuously. “Oh yeth, the great lordth can claim ath a “pethtilent lethargy,” what would be thimple “lathineth” in one thuch ath I. He’th a _kinetic_ , I tell you. A thurprithingly bright one, too.”  
“Wwhy should that be surprising?”  
“That a blueblood ith thmart ithn’t thurprithing. That a _hauler_ ith thmart, _ith,_.”

“It is _entirely_ possible,” Dualscar declared. “I wouldn’t be surprised if _all_ the on-planet trolls had some kind of psychic ability at this point. I mean, it’s not like anybody could expect a bunch of ten-sweep-olds to uphold a selective breeding program, let alone continue it.”  
Eridan was looking at him oddly. “ _All_ of them?”  
“ _Um_ ,” Dualscar said with unusual eloquence, and got up to abscond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Bread is hearts: _I can/will provide for you._ Pretty straightforward. If the recipient invites you to share it with them, they accept and return your feelings.  
>  Broken crockery is diamonds: _help me._ The number of pieces should roughly correspond to how difficult a moirail you expect to be. If it’s returned mended, they accept.  
>  A bloody knife is clubs: _stop me/us._ Preferably you won’t have actually killed the person whose blood is on it, or what’s the point?  
>  A knife _without_ blood is spades: _defend yourself!_ If it’s returned by a third party, your suit has been rejected. If your crush brings it back themselves and attacks you with it, they accept. If they send it back broken, seek an auspistice. If they send it back stuck in a loaf of bread, they don’t feel the same way. If they send it back _baked_ in a loaf of bread, you’re in for a wild ride.*


	10. Revelations, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Warnings for upcoming discussions of physical, mental and emotional abuse)

Ψ swooped in front of him as he made to leave. “Dee. You want to thtay here, don’t you? Like, for a while?”  
Dualscar nodded reluctantly. He certainly didn’t want to leave when he had all he needed within easy reach. Anyplace else was bound to be worse.  
“Then you _have_ to tell him,” Ψ concluded testily.  
“All right,” Dualscar answered quietly, “right, yes, I know. Ignorance is dangerous.”  
He took a deep breath and turned back around. His master – _Eridan_ – was pretty obviously biting back a “tell me _wwhat?_ ” with considerable effort. Again, Dualscar was grateful for his patience. 

“There is something you must know,” he began.  
“About the eggs?” Eridan jumped in. Dualscar took a moment to remind himself not to get annoyed with the normal impetuousness of youth, and sank into a chair. This might take a good deal of explaining.  
“No,” he countered. “At least, not involving them, although they are a somewhat related concern. The thing is this.” He paused to steel himself before pressing on. Ψ rested a metal hand on his shoulder, a small comfort.

 _All right, the less dangerous part first._ “I told you before that people brought me food several times a night. What I should have said, instead, was that – they came to feed me.” He continued hurriedly, before Eridan could get the wrong idea. “I _need_ attention, in the same way I need food.

“Affection works best,” he explained, as Eridan stared at him blankly. “Just something as simple as someone smiling at me is immensely satisfying. But touch is the fastest and most powerful. Most of the visitors I get while I’m egg-heavy give me a few minutes of smiles and hugs and pats, and that’ll hold me for a few hours. If I’m especially clingy, they’ll send an extra person earlier than normal.”  
“They didn’t stay?” Eridan sounded bewildered, with an air of _that’s all?_ Dualscar shook his head.  
“No, they’re not allowed, I think. Even at my clingiest, they’ll have to pry themselves free and shove off after about ten minutes or so, with extra assurances that someone else is on the way, if need be.”  
“This is like…howw you said nobody wwas allowwed to get attached to you?” Eridan suggested.  
Dualscar nodded cautiously. “Possibly.”  
“Affection, you said.” Eridan thumped his head into the back of the couch. Dualscar let him mull it over silently for as long as he needed; it was a lot to take in. “Wwhat if your vvisitors didn’t like you?”  
_They wouldn’t do that,_ was Dualscar’s immediate response, _they wouldn’t send someone like that,_ but now that the question had been posed, he was forced to actually consider it.

“I never really knew how my ‘feeders’ were chosen,” he said slowly. “If they were volunteers, or chosen by their supervisors, or just goldbricking –“  
“Eh?”  
“Oh, that’th an old joke,” Ψ put in with a smile.  
“Oh, it is!” Dualscar agreed merrily.  
_”Ehh?!?”_  
“Right, right,” said Dualscar, realizing that Eridan might not have heard it, after all. “It goes ‘What do you get when you brick a goldblood?’”  
“A goldbrick!” Ψ concluded brightly, without waiting for the beat that normally proceeded a punchline.  
Eridan blinked. He muttered, considering, a hand to his mouth. “A’right, so, a useless person?”  
“…Generally just meaning someone who skives off work instead of being useful, yes. Doing only lazy jobs, for instance.”  
“Like vvisiting you?”  
“Potentially!” He returned to the point at hand. “Getting fed by people who don’t care for me is still possible, of course, just less efficient. It’s less satisfying and takes longer. Affection works best, as I said, but if I can’t get affection, any attention will do.” His fins drooped. “Negative attention is the least satisfying, so I need a great quantity of it in order to stop seeking attention.”  
“Sounds like a vvicious cycle,” Eridan said faintly.  
“Well, it’s not fun.”  
As Dualscar’s tone faltered, Ψ ceased his restless circling of the room and picking over the shelves to return to his side.

“Oh – this doesn’t come up _as_ often, but -” His spirits rose as he recalled. “I can get a similar sense of being ‘fed’ from a crowd of people, even if they’re not particularly focused on me, so long as they’re not _excluding_ me. In that case it’s a sort of indirect boost to my mood.”  
“Hang on – you said the eggs wwere related, somehoww. An’ if you need people an’ like crowwds, wwhy -?”  
Eridan was looking at him with concern; Ψ was – Dualscar glanced around, stalling – reassuringly, still close behind him.  
“Why was I shut away, instead of out where I could interact with people?” Of course, that would be the most obvious question. And he couldn’t lie and say _It was to protect me, to protect my eggs_ ; it was too important that his master get the whole truth, now, instead of bits at a time. “Well, if I’m _not_ getting attention when I want it, my mood goes south in a hurry. And that’s a problem, because” – Dualscar steepled his fingers – “in that state” – steeled himself, and took a deep breath. _The other side of the coin is this._

“I am a _weapons-grade_ emotional contagion,” Dualscar finally got out. “Basically, whatever I feel _now_ , the people nearby me will feel _soon_. If I feel it strong enough, for long enough, I can affect a whole _ship_. That’s why,” he broke off, looking down at his hands wringing in his lap, “why – my room was sealed. It had its own air supply and filtering system, so I couldn’t – affect the crew.” Ψ was rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder blades, and he dared a desperate look up at his master. “When I’m brooding, I’m – like, just a massive mess of hormones. I _will_ have inexplicable crying jags, and sudden unprovoked rages, and there’s nothing I can do about it, except warn you. I’m warning you now. I can’t – control how I feel, very well, when I’m brooding, not all the time.”  
He looked away, ashamed, and curled up and rocked forward a bit in his chair. Ψ hummed softly and nuzzled at his earfin, a momentary beacon of calm.

Eridan stared at him silently, with what looked like wild confusion. Wearily, Dualscar wondered if he’d broken his master’s brain, or pushed his credulity too far. It beat wondering what he was going to _do_ about this revelation. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good. How angry would he be that Dualscar had kept it from him for so long? There hadn’t been a good time – his master seemed to be constantly busy with nothing of obvious interest. Well. That wasn’t a proper excuse, and excuses were never worth much more than perhaps turning a punch into a slap. Eventually, Eridan rallied. “Howw – but,” he spluttered. “’ _Wweapons_ -grade’?”

Ah. Of course. “There was a greenblood,” Dualscar sighed in remembrance. “Who, by dint of quite a few absolutely _brilliant_ tactical moves, as well as most of her chain of command winding up dead, won herself a captaincy. The Condescension didn’t much care for the idea – none of the higher-ups did – but she’d earned it, by merit, and by rights, the ship was hers. So. Her Imperiousness gave the girl her own ship, and one _additional_ gift: me.” 

Dualscar leaned back in his chair, lips pressed tightly together, reflecting. Ψ murmured unhappily and leaned in to hug him around the shoulders, balancing one hip on the chair’s arm.  
“Now mind you, this girl was a _genius_ ,” Dualscar continued wretchedly. “But she couldn’t ‘ _people_ ,’ hah, to save her life. And I was _miserable_ every night, every _moment_ , that I spent on that ship! _Nobody_ wanted to be there; the crew _knew_ they were doomed! And the girl didn’t even know what to do with me, barely knew what to do _to_ me, tried to ignore me, forget I was there, as much as possible. I couldn’t eat or sleep properly, it was just, everything was somehow _wrong_. There wasn’t a _place_ for me there.”

He sighed again, more heavily. “And after two, maybe three perigees, the crew suicide rates reached levels that could no longer be ignored. So, stepping in and culling the poor girl seemed justified, and, of course, seizing her property. And I, I was _glad_ to be back! Even – meanness is a form of attention, it shows – someone’s thought of you, I guess? Better than being forgotten and left to rot.”  
He breathed shakily, dismissing the ghost once more. His – Eridan had gone pale, and when had Ψ slithered all the way into his lap? “I’m done now, you lovely distraction,” Dualscar said softly, and was rewarded with a relieved grin and a hug around the neck.

“...Howw horrible” Eridan whispered in shock, almost to himself.  
Dualscar agreed with him. “Yes. It was an awful waste of a wonderful strategic mind.” He shook himself, throwing off his past-dwelling funk – Eridan mirrored his action – and returned to the topic at hand.  
“So. You see how it is, with me, now? I need to keep people pleased with me. I can’t really _live_ without some sort of attention, not well. I – pine away, it’s not healthy, not for me, not for _anyone_ nearby.”  
Eridan was silent, and looked badly shaken. “I think I – think I knoww wwhat you mean,” he managed at last. He looked beseechingly at Ψ. “You, Psii, can you – givve him the attention he needs? I can’t – do all of it.” He looked away, blushing faintly. 

Ψ smirked. “Yeth, I can do that, shall we thay, ath a thpecial _favor_ for letting me stay here?”  
“Is that – enough?” Eridan asked hesitantly. “I mean, do you need, um –”  
Dualscar took pity and interrupted him, amused. “It’s all right. So long as you’re not mad at me, I’ll be fine. Your touch and tender regard is not absolutely necessary for my continued well-being and survival at this point. That said, I’d still appreciate it; would a pat on the head now and then, when you’re pleased with me, be too much to ask for?”  
“Not at all,” an obviously relieved Eridan assured him.  
“And of course you can smack me whenever you’re mad.” Dualscar offered. “Just gotta be careful of the eggs.” His fins drooped a bit; his master didn’t seem to be taking that notion well. “Just until I lay; only another perigee or two,” he promised. Once again, an expected beating had failed to materialize, and he had a feeling they were all looming over him, piling up in some dark and nebulous future. _No borrowing trouble,_ he reminded himself.


	11. Revelations, Part 3

Dualscar decided to start lunch; the library would need a chance to air out after such an emotionally charged conversation. _Let’s see, lots of finely chopped vegetables, so Ψ won’t have to chew too much. Noodles? No, rice, and some sort of meat – or nuts?_ He busied himself with cutting board, pots and pans, bustling about as Ψ floated overhead, out of the way but near enough to be companionable. Thumping noises came through the ceiling as Eridan sorted books overhead, until the smell of cooking drew him downstairs to eat.

“Tell me more about…bein’ a contagion,” Eridan said eventually, when they’d eaten their fill and the meal was winding down. “Wwhat’s it like for you?”

Dualscar chewed slowly to give himself more time to think over how best to explain. “Going back to the example of me getting my fill of attention from a crowd: Crowds have an overall mood. Maybe it’s a happy crowd that got something tasty for lunch, or they’re all dancing at a party. I can pick up on that mood very easily, and it makes me happy, too.” 

He spread his hands. “Normal enough, right? It’s hard to stay sad when everyone around you is celebrating, especially if they make you a part of it. But say instead the crowd is nervous: the bosses are yelling behind closed doors, there’ve been nasty rumors flying, whatever. That’s _dangerous_ , because they could panic and form a mob; those are _deadly_. I can still pick up on that mood, but -” He faltered at describing how it felt. “I…sort of decide that no, that’s not the mood I want, the mood I want is _calm._ So I stay calm, and I think ‘calm,’ and I become a sort of beacon of calm, radiating it out into the crowd. I can pick _up_ on their mood, but I don’t have to _carry_ it, see?” He gestured to himself with both hands, trying to get the point across. Eridan had covered his mouth with one hand, and was giving him a look of fierce concentration, but didn’t interrupt as Dualscar struggled to explain.

“It goes back to my need for attention. If I feel safe – happy and well – my will dominates. I can retreat to that, and rely on it. The less reliable that feeling of safety is, the shakier my foundation, and the more changeable my mood.” He gestured to Ψ. “Ψ’s grin, his laugh, are what’s called – what I think of as _naturally_ \- ‘infectious.’ In contrast, my feelings are positively _virulent._ If – when I can’t control them, it’s bad for everyone around me.”

Understandably, Eridan looked unable to follow the conversation, instead just staring at Dualscar incredulously. Ψ had picked up on his nerves and was making his silverware dance uneasily above his plate. Dualscar reorganized his thoughts and tried again.  
“Emotion is a two-way street, for me. Even though I can tell what someone else is feeling – when they’re close enough for me to influence directly, anyway – I don’t _have_ to feel what they’re feeling, if I’m strong enough to push it away. Instead, I can sort of impose my will on others. Their moods change to match mine over a short period of time. Minutes, usually. Faster if I’m trying.”

“ _Showw_ me,” Eridan challenged.  
“All right,” Dualscar said, and pulled his chair closer to Eridan’s. “That might be easiest. I’m going to pull you in close, because this is mostly pheremonal, and I don’t need to affect the whole room. Would you let me trap your fin under mine? That’ll make the changes more noticeable.”  
Eridan cocked his head. “Hmm?”  
“Like this,” Dualscar said, pulling him forward so Eridan’s head went over his shoulder. “Flare your fin out a little bit…good.” He slotted his own fin under Eridan’s, so the two were back-to-back. “Now flatten it back down.”  
“!!”  
It _was_ a startlingly intimate position, Dualscar had to admit; their fins trapped them cheek-to-cheek, holding Eridan within easy reach of the pheromones that tended to come from around Dualscar’s neck and fins. “If it’s too uncomfortable, just say so.”  
Eridan fidgeted a bit, finally bracing his knees on Dualscar’s lap. “N-no, go ahead.”  
“All right. For me, this is a visualization exercise; I call up images or memories that evoke the feeling I’m trying to convey. First is _joy_.”  
(A sweep’s-end party, music, dancing, everyone wanted to dance with _him_ but no one could match him, no -)  
“Hmm!” Dualscar could feel Eridan’s smile against his neck. “I see, that’s nice.”  
“Another easy one is _fear_ ,” Dualscar told him.  
(Panic like a nightmare, running scared; fighting, clawing, a losing battle against a doom that would overtake you ANY SECOND -)  
Even with the warning, Eridan jolted, pulling away.  
“Shh. _Peace_ , now.”  
(Lying on the sand, listening to the waves, nothing in particular that needed doing. Ψ was beside him and all was right.)  
“ _Nhh,_ ” Eridan said, relaxing almost against his will. “ _Wwoww._ That stuff hits _hard_.”  
“It should,” Dualscar told him, gently disengaging their fins. “It’s in a form your body was made to receive, after all. Or, well, maybe you’re not getting _all_ the signals yet, since you’re not fully grown. Anyhow, that’s the general idea – I make myself feel the thing I want other people to feel for as long as it takes to affect them. It’ll take longer for a bigger group, a bigger room, or a bigger change in overall mood, like from negative to positive.”  
“Howw long does it last?” Eridan asked, shaking his head so his fins flapped free before smoothing themselves back into place.  
“It depends on how many people are affected, and how strongly, and whether or not they _want_ to keep feeling that way! Overall, though, moods, especially group moods, tend to be self-sustaining when they’re not getting outside input.”

“Somethin’s still botherin’ me,” Eridan began. “Before, wwhen you said – people around you wwere, wwere killin’ themselvves, but _you_ , you nevver -?”  
Even though the voice trailed off, he waited until he was sure his master was done speaking. “No. Two reasons, I think. Suicide always seemed like – it was for people who just couldn’t hack it. Dereliction of duty, like. And I wanted to prove I was better than that. Also I’m a terrible coward and afraid of pain. I go out of my way to avoid it.”  
Eridan was rubbing his brow, but there was a smile in his voice. “Are you tryin’ to tell me you wwere _too cowwardly_ to take the cowward’s wway out?”

Shrinking in on himself a bit, Dualscar murmured assent, and his master didn’t pry further. Instead, he picked up a different thread. “Howw strong is your influence?” he asked.  
“Not very, in the short term,” Dualscar admitted. “Unless I’m feeling something very strongly, or I’m in very close quarters with someone. Mostly I pick up the prevailing sentiment of a place and _run_ with it. It would take me a good deal of work and time, not to mention perseverance, to turn a lot of happy people sad, or vice versa. Typically, my own mood would tend to change to match theirs, and perpetuate it. However,” he mentioned, “there is something to be said for keeping a breeder happy being good for overall morale.”  
“Wwait.” Eridan looked incredulous. “You wwere _happy?_ Howw did that wwork, exactly?”  
Dualscar brightened. Ψ threw down his fork in disgust and pillowed his chin on one metal hand, facing away from them. “Oh, here we go,” he muttered darkly. Dualscar ignored him.

“I had a _job_ ,” he began. “Having a ‘master’ and a ‘mate’ is mostly just for the breeding season. The rest of the time, I belonged to the Condesce, and she let me make myself useful. I was her ship’s morale officer.”  
Ψ interrupted, groaning. “Leaving _athide_ the real reathon behind the title being that any theadweller on a fleet ship _hath_ to be an offither. Any theadweller who got demoted _below_ an offither’th level jutht got culled, inthtead. She wanted to keep you on board, therefore she gave you a title that wath probably unique in the whole fleet.”  
“That’s _right!_ ” Dualscar proclaimed proudly. “I was _unique!_ ”  
“God. Dee. It wathn’t a compliment. Not from me _or_ her.”

“You _made yourself useful_ ,” Eridan repeated, with a faint tinge of disgust. “Givven what you just told me, my first guess wwoulda been ‘crowwd control,’ but that sounds more like people made _use_ of you.”  
“Your guess wasn’t too far off!” Dualscar laughed. “That was a big part of it. Basically, I was responsible for keeping overall morale up across the whole ship. If there was a trouble spot forming in a crowd, I’d be there –“  
“Or you could jutht get handed over to whichever of the higher-upth wath having a bad night and needed to take out thome thtreth on thomeone durable –“  
“ _Or_ I could help people individually, yes, and if they’re going to have an effect on everyone who works under them, then of _course_ it’s easiest to deal with them directly before it gets to be a problem –“

“I want you to tell the truth.” Ψ’s voice was patient, unyielding. “It’s all right to admit you didn’t like it, because it’s _never going to happen again._ I _promithe_ , Dee. That plathe wath _hell._ ”  
“There’s always somewhere worse to be,” Dualscar quoted, an old truism.  
Ψ’s expression grew hard. “I could jutht _thlap_ you, thometimeth,” he said, voice thick with emotion, and pulled Dualscar into a punishingly tight hug. “They made you thcream and bleed and beg, and you begged for _more_. I’d kill them all again if I could, every night, every day. They made me a tool, but at least I wathn’t a _toy._ ”  
“I wasn’t!” Dualscar protested. “All right, so maybe I can’t really claim to have kept my dignity, especially given what I was wearing, but I at least maintained a minimum of self-respect.”

“When I first saw you,” Ψ started, then broke off. “When you came to me.” He tried again. “I mean, when I first _met_ you properly, you were on the end of a _leash_. You were wearing a damned _collar_ , Dee, being dragged around like an _animal_.”  
“But that was before! I didn’t really even _start_ my job until I’d outgrown the collar.”  
“You were a _thing_ to them, Dee, like me, not a person, just a tool! Hell, you could almost be _requithitioned_! You were _community property_ to the ekthtent that to ‘render you unuthable by otherth’ wath a _culling offenthe._ ”  
“‘Unfit for use,’” Dualscar corrected, “yes. I _used_ that, sometimes. In fact, I won a great victory the night I successfully argued that giving me a lasting injury or more than superficial scratches left me ‘unfit for use,’ as everyone ought to be allowed at least the pretense that I was theirs, and theirs alone.” He was rather proud of that still; he was no great debater.  
“GodDAMMIT, Dee! _You were a whore!_ ”

_No, I…no. No, that’s not, no. Just, no, I_

_(know)_

He turned away. The plates – he couldn’t start clearing yet, they hadn’t all finished eating. He could…get a start on dinner, at least? Mechanically, he circled back around to the other side of the counter and pulled some more vegetables out of the fridge, setting them on the just-washed cutting board. _Maybe noodles next time after all -_  
Someone wrapped around him, hugging him from behind. “Thorry. Dee, I’m tho thorry. Pleathe, come back to me. To _uth._ ”  
_Back?_ He was _here,_ wasn’t he? Fixing dinner? He watched his hands move over the countertop, restrained by the encircling arms, not really remembering what he had been planning to do. _Us?_  
…There was someone else there, he remembered and noticed, a small person, that he desperately wanted to look his best for…and this…the head next to him was _Ψ. Love/trust._

“Ψ?” Dualscar asked, finding himself on the far side of the counter from the table holding a cabbage in one hand and a knife in the other, with no clear idea of how he’d gotten there. He braced himself on the edge of the countertop, riding out a wave of dizziness. “I think I’d better sit down.”  
For once, he didn’t protest as Ψ carried him back to his seat, and sat down with him; the arms wrapped around him were hard and thin, but it steadied him to be held. “What…happened?” he asked, hesitant to know; Eridan looked like he’d had a bad shock and Ψ was distraught, muttering in his ear.

“Oh my love, my dear heart’th darling, you don’t know what they’ve _done_ to you, Dee, they made you _complithit in your own dethtruction_. They locked you away for a quarter of every sweep, _perigees_ at a time, and convinthed you it wath ‘for the good of the crew,’ ath if they were _your_ crew! _Ath if you should care about ANYONE’TH good but YOUR OWN!_ ”  
Dualscar recoiled from his lover’s intensity. Ψ lowered his volume. “Ath if you wouldn’t _know_ your own good! You know what you need better than anyone elthe doeth! And it’th only them not giving it to you, not letting you be yourthelf, your _natural_ thelf, that’th methed you up tho bad.”

Protesting feebly, Dualscar offered, “I scarcely think my feral nature is going to make the best long-term decisions. I have to be a _bit_ canny, play their games, to get by. Honestly a lot of what I know and remember comes from their research on me.” Ψ looked horrified; from behind him, Eridan made a whimpering sound. “Not with important broods!” he insisted, twisting to look around and attempting reassurance. “Ψ‘s broods they mostly left alone, for instance. But they also tried a number of ways to make me carry the Condescension’s broods to term. Like, anti-nausea drugs. I was pretty much dead to the world on the dosage they gave me, and when they tried to wake me up by shoving me in a pool or something, the stale water just triggered my gag reflex even worse.” He faltered. “I mean – it was worse, okay, when they were doing something not to me, but to the eggs after I laid them. Sometimes they wouldn’t let me see them again. A couple times they tried to hatch them without my help – I could always tell when they were hatching, somehow –”

Ψ interrupted him. “I heard you uthed to beat yourthelf bloody against the wallth of your room trying to get out, to _reach_ them, and you had to be thedated.”  
Nodding slowly, Dualscar confirmed, “I hated that – hated _knowing_ , somehow, just on an instinctual level, that they were going to mess it up. And they always did! If they didn’t call the grubs out, almost _all_ of them would die in shell or barely out of it. The ones that somehow made it to the surface just cried and wandered around randomly for a little bit, and then they gave up and died too! They didn’t even _try_ to eat! The next couple times they tried it, they played a recording of me helping a brood hatch. Those eggs hatched, but the rate of unsurfaced grubs was still unusually high, and the grubs they did get were very confused. Well, of _course!_ It wasn’t _them_ I had been calling! Eventually the researchers gave it up as a waste of effort: why struggle to hatch grubs artificially when I could do it better, and for free?”  
“You’d have _paid_ them for it, you poor dethperate thing,” Ψ concluded sourly.

Dualscar turned on him in baffled annoyance. “How do you _know_ all this? You never got to see it.”  
“People _talked_ about you, Dee! You were _entertainment_ , and a lot more interethting than muthic or movieth. Remember how I alwayth inthithted on paired technithianth, two at a time? They didn’t talk to _me_ , I wath jutht equipment, but they sure ath hell talked to _each other!_ That wath _my_ entertainment,” he finished, with satisfaction.  
“Wwhat did you do if you only had one technician?” Eridan asked.  
Ψ turned to him and grinned slowly. Eridan backed up, looking alarmed.  
“…And for thome of them, that wath enough!”  
Dualscar patted Ψ’s shoulder fondly. “You were the most menacing mess of fangs and rudeness on board, and they all knew it.”

“Uh. Settin’ aside your past for now,” Eridan asked nervously, “Wwhat _happens_ to you, wwhen you get upset? Presumin’ you’re not upsettin’ other people, for the moment. Wwhen it’s just you gettin’ upset an’ not able to calm dowwn, wwhat do you _do?_ ”  
“Hmm…Oh! This is like…” Dualscar waved a hand. “I’m generally a happy drunk, if that helps.”  
“ _Does_ it?” said Eridan beseechingly.  
“Well, let me think…Are we just saying I’m suddenly upset for no reason?”  
Eridan nodded.  
“Typically, in the absence of other input – if all I have to deal with is myself being upset – my inclination is to hide.” He spread his arms at Eridan’s puzzled look. “I like small spaces! They make me feel safer. If I can’t do _anything_ else, I’ll curl up and hide my face in my arms.”  
“So I wwouldn’t havve to wworry about vviolent outbursts, then.”  
“Certainly not from me! Unless I’m drugged or something. I don’t know of anything that would make me violent – maybe a threat to a loved one, or something?” Dualscar shrugged. “I don’t think of violence as even a last resort, because it’s never helped me at all.”

“Your firtht rethort ith alwayth to make nithe,” Ψ put in acerbically, nuzzling his neck.  
Dualscar swatted at him ineffectually. “Come off it. You’re just after my feelgood hormones.”  
“Not true,” Ψ crooned. “I mean, maybe true right now, thorry. But that’th not all.”

“Augh.” Dualscar dropped his hand in disgust. “You don’t even think of me as _sexy_ , you think of me as _sex_.”  
“You _are_ thekthy, though. Objectively, I mean. You’ve got nithe broad shoulderth, a pretty voithe, you’re thtrong and fit. _And_ you’ve got a great ath.” Ψ raised his voice. “Hey, kid! Come tell Dee he’th thekthy!”  
Eridan made a strangled noise – “aghrl! He’s _fine!_ ” – and attempted to hide behind the table. Ψ turned back to Dualscar. “Thee?”  
“But still! Every time I saw you, I meant _sex_ to you! You can’t separate the concepts.”  
“That’th _true_ , Dee, but it’th not the _whole_ truth.” A metal hand drew gently down his cheek, then hooked under his chin, drawing his eyes up to Ψ’s face. “You meant thomething elthe to me, thomething more. Dee, you meant _freedom_. I think I thtill wouldn’t be really free, really mythelf, if _you_ weren’t here with me.”  
Dualscar drooped away, shamefaced. Delicate metal fingers traced along the top of his earfin, slow and light, almost a tickle. “Dee,” Ψ whispered softly. “You know you’re beautiful, right?”  
A slight cringe, a nod, with hanging head. Yes, he’d heard an awful lot of variations on that theme over the sweeps. _Pretty little thing_. He shuddered.  
The metal hand now cupped his cheek, as gentle as the insistent voice: “You know that’th a _good_ thing, right?”  
Dualscar whined; he threw his arms around Ψ, buried his face in one scrawny shoulder and cried quietly as answering arms enfolded him in a loving embrace.

“So.” Eridan looked shaky as he resurfaced, which wasn’t surprising. “So, to sum up –“  
Dualscar heaved a huge sigh, and returned to the point. “I feed on attention,” he summarized, wiping his eyes, “and, to a certain extent, on mood. I take emotional input and produce emotional output. They’re not necessarily related – I can produce a specific output if I put my mind to it, except…. when I’m not _strong_ , like when I’m hormonal from carrying eggs…I lose that control over what I output. It’ll be random noise, or, more likely, I’ll just be amplifying the input. Also, I can function – as an emotional manipulator, at least – a lot better on no sleep or no food than I can on no attention. I can’t even control my _own_ mood, then. Like, I get upset at how upset I’m getting, and I’m generally just a mess.”

“You’ve been doin’ that wwith me,” Eridan said suddenly. “Feedin’ on my attention, right?”  
“Yes,” Dualscar admitted, fins drawn back, “and from Ψ, too; it’s a bit dangerous for me to have only one source. I’d be horribly annoying, for one.”  
“An’ tryin’ to impose your mood?” Eridan challenged.  
Dualscar shrank back, his fins folded up as small as they could go. “Well, I _have_ been trying to cheer you up,” he hedged. “You seemed down. That’s all. It’s to my advantage to keep you happy, by any means necessary, so you can keep me happy in turn.” _And if you’re going to be unhappy **about** that, there’s very little I can do._  
“And Psii - _that’s_ wwhy you need him?”  
He sounded incredulous. Dualscar soldiered on. “Ψ’s the third leg of the stool, so to speak,” Dualscar said. “At least theoretically, _you_ have the same abilities _I_ have. And I’ve already admitted I’m not strong right now, and you’re too young to be able to control your mood – for the moment, we’re both at the mercy of our hormones. He’s here to keep our mood from swinging too far out of balance. Either of us having a bad night could pull the other one down too far, too fast, for an easy recovery. Ψ’s mood is easily changeable, which makes him a good cushion to lean on.”  
“Pluth I can leave!” Ψ suggested. “Get out of the hive when the mood goeth thour, let it bleed off, and come back when I’m feeling better. In termth of providing ‘mood,’ conthider me like a well.”  
“A sort of sink, or ground, for draining bad feelings and drawing forth good ones,” Dualscar seconded. “Something – sorry, some _one_ from whom an unlimited amount can be pulled.”

“So, to recap _once again,_ ” Eridan interrupted. “-I just wwanna make sure I’m gettin’ the wwhole picture, here –“ He ticked off points on his fingers. “You _need_ attention, you _prefer_ affection, touch wworks best – yeah? That’s wwhy you asked me to pat you on the head?”  
He reached up to pat Dualscar’s head; Dualscar leaned down into the touch happily, with a _hm_ of agreement. “Quickest, most effective, yes.”  
“Right, I get it. So attention makes you _content_ , an’ you _use_ that content to make _other_ people content – spread it around, like. Also you get happy wwhen other people are happy, an’ you bein’ happy makes other people happy, in a sort of mood loop?”  
“That’s generally the ideal, but I can produce other moods if it’s necessary.”  
“I mean, I _get_ it. I knoww wwhat you mean. But it scares me.” He gestured to himself. “Not you! You’vve got it under control! I mean _me!_ ”

Dualscar leaned back into Ψ’s solidness for a moment before answering. “That’s part of why I told you this,” he admitted quietly. “I thought you needed to know. It can all go very wrong in a hurry, if you don’t know what you’re doing. But it’s worse when you don’t even know you’re doing _anything._ And also I wanted to let you know – you’ve been kind to me, I appreciate that – but you’re in danger, if you keep me close while I’m brooding. I’m sorry.”  
“Wwhat, because you’ll get randomly sad and mad and it’ll make _me_ sad and mad? I think I can deal with it,” Eridan said, taking a last few bites from his plate. “Besides, it sounds like it’d be more dangerous for you to go off on your owwn.”  
“Alone, yes. Again, I’m sorry.”

Eridan’s shoulders slumped. “You wwere sayin’ earlier I could hit you,” he mumbled, chin to chest. Before Dualscar had time for more than a moment’s startlement, he continued, “I don’t _wwanna_ hit you, it would be…inefficient.”  
“Well, yes,” Dualscar admitted, and reached out to slide a brave _(brazen?)_ hand through Eridan’s hair. The boy stiffened in surprise, but didn’t duck away from the contact.  
“You need attention, too,” Dualscar reminded him gently. “Or at any rate, you will; I don’t know when the need starts. I was off-planet before I knew it was a thing. I’ve been feeding you, not just myself.”  
“I’m too _young,_ you said,” Eridan complained. “Howw long before _I_ can get the kind of control you havve?”  
“Over your own moods? Well, the first step is to recognize them. It sounds silly, but something as simple as writing in a journal can help – something like, ‘when X happened, I felt Y,’ and follow it up with ‘because,’ if you can. Once you’ve learned to notice _what_ you’re feeling _when_ you’re feeling it, you’ll get a better idea of whether you _should_ be trying to apply your mood to others. It takes focus to pump out pheromones in quantity like that! In the normal course of things, people would be getting only a slight boost or drop in their own mood from a run-in with you.”

“So changin’ people’s moods is harder than you made it sound, then?”  
“Changin’ ‘em to somethin’ _specific_ , yeah! At first I could only give people my own mood, and after that it was kind of random. It took me a long time to learn to control it! Anger was the hardest thing to deal with – for ages I could only reflect it back. And I don’t _like_ raging, it makes me feel sick. I think I’m not built for it or something. I’m still not _great_ at facing down anger that’s focused at me, but I can reflect a kind of blank calm now, and that mostly does the job.” He shrugged. “In the worst case, I can distract, if not deflect, and I’m sturdy enough to take a beating that might kill or maim a greenblood.”  
_”Aaugh!”_ Eridan thumped the table. “Okay, my first feelins journal entry is that that made me upset, because I don’t like to think about people hurtin’ you.”  
“I’ll try not to give you cause to think about it, then,” Dualscar promised. “And good job! That’s a mood you might want to keep to yourself, then, _unless_ you were trying to make someone stop hurting me by making them feel upset about it. Of course, if they were hitting me because they were upset in the first place, it might backfire. It takes practice!” Dualscar ruffled Eridan’s hair as he got up and started collecting plates. “And you’re well on your way.”


	12. Revelations, Part 4

Dualscar threw all the portholes open and went for a walk on the beach after lunch, so as to rid the galley of the air of desperate sadness. The jittery feeling seemed to follow him, though, until Ψ flew close enough to sniff him and said, “You need a shower.”  
“ _Oh._ Of course, the scent’s gone all through my clothes. I should’ve realized.”  
He _did_ feel better after a wash, with a fresh change of clothes, so he made sure to check on Eridan to suggest he do the same.  
“Oh, are you picking out a chest for the books? Get one a little bigger than you need, so there’ll be room for a waterproof layer.”  
Dinner was blessedly uneventful, if simpler than planned, being assembled mostly of leftovers due to a shortage of prep time. They retired to their usual lounge afterward, but this time, Eridan pulled up a chair beside the couch while Ψ sprawled over Dualscar’s lap, purring with fullness.

“Wwhen you said – you _pine_ ,” Eridan asked hesitantly, “Wwhat do you mean, exactly? Like, wwouldn’t you be okay if most people just left you alone and they wweren’t mad or sad around you?”  
“Oh. That’s another story, if you want to hear it.” Dualscar offered him a small smile. “It has a happier ending, I promise.”  
Slowly, Eridan nodded, holding his gaze. _What is that look? ‘I trust you not to hurt me, even just with a story?’_

“Okay. The emotions I spread – they have to come from _someone_ , right? And I –” he spread out his hands, “Just sort of – absorb and amplify them, if I’m not trying to change them. I’ve heard it described as me being ‘an emotional rainbow drinker,’ but that’s not really right, because it’s not like I’m taking anything from anyone? It’s more...” he waved his hands around. “Like, if someone is happy _at_ me, it _makes_ me happy. Not right away, if I’m trying to fight it off, like I would for negative emotions. But it’s a lot faster, and more direct, than the general absorption of the prevailing miasma method I described before. Anyhow, the point _is_ , if I’m not _getting_ any sort of emotional input – basically ‘attention,’ like I said earlier - from other people, even secondhand, I...sort of starve. That’s what I mean by ‘pine.’ My default mood is set to ‘lonely,’ and it just sort of feeds on itself.

“Now for the story,” he went on. Eridan was rapt, eyes wide. “The closest I ever came to suicide was sort of accidental. Well, on my part. On everyone’s part, I guess; they didn’t know yet. It was - oh, a few sweeps after we’d left the planet, maybe. A couple of seasons for me; enough time for smart folks to figure out my hormones were going to be a big problem while I was brooding. So, they built me that airtight room and just – shut me in it. Sealed me away, until I was ready to lay and the problem resolved itself.”

Eridan was whimpering behind his hands. “It’s _too cruel!_ But howw -”  
“There was a dumbwaiter for food, and any other things I might need,” Dualscar explained. “Anyone else would have been well provided for – I was, perhaps, the most pampered prisoner the empire has ever seen. But no people, no contact with anyone! I think I went mad, first pleading and begging, then pressing myself up against the vidscreens and comm speakers whenever someone contacted me – mmm, I think it was mostly Dessie telling me to ‘Shape up!’ or something.” Below him, Ψ snickered. “Eventually, though, I just stopped responding. There wasn’t...anything... _there_ for me, somehow. I stopped bothering to eat or...bathe, I think. Just lay around like a lump.”

“Wwhat _happened?_ ” put in Eridan, breathless, when Dualscar paused for a drink.  
“Hmm, well, I don’t remember the next bit much myself. I was pretty out of it. But I learned it later. It went something like this:

“Dessie finally got fed up or worried enough to send someone in person to snap me out of it. I didn’t respond. What was the point? They weren’t there for _me_ , they were there because they were scared of _her._ The doctors were useless; physically, I was fine, aside from not eating or drinking. I think they gave me IVs. At some point, I’m told the docs concluded I’d ‘lost the will to live.’ So, she said something along the lines of ‘If he can’t live without being fussed over, I’ll damn well find someone to fuss over him!’ And she goes looking for a pair of moirails.”

He held up a gently warning finger at Eridan. “Now, I can see you about to ask, ‘Why moirails?’ Remember, if she sent only _one_ person, their dominant emotion would be fear of being culled if they failed. I can’t live on that; that’s no kind of support. It had to be two people who could sustain and comfort each other, an endless circle of _you’re all right so I’m all right_. And they _did!_ God bless them, they did. But! The most amazing part!

“...Do you want to know?” he asked rhetorically. Eridan nodded intently, playing “interested listener” to the hilt. “She didn’t tell them _why_ she wanted them! She didn’t tell _anyone_ , just said, ‘I need a pair of moirails for somefin,’ and they _volunteered!_ One stepped forward, and the other followed; they trusted each other’s decisions _that much._. It could’ve been _anything!_ It could’ve been a suicide mission; it _would’ve_ been a suicide mission for people less devoted. But devoted they were, to each other, and they saved me.”

Dualscar paused, and pulled a drowsing Ψ over his lap like a blanket. “So anyhow, they were sealed in with me. The first I remember of them is one pestering me to eat – or maybe drink – something he was holding up to my mouth, and the other chiding him, saying something like _you leave him be_ , and the first answered back like _but I can’t leave him be_. But I don’t think those were the words, exactly, just the tone. I didn’t know what they meant, exactly, but it felt like something was about me, specifically, at last. Later I woke up more and they were talking – I was partly buried in a pile of something, and I must have moved, and when they looked over and saw me I sort of hid back further in it – but they didn’t come over and bother me, they just laughed and said “oh, he’ll come out when he’s ready,” and went back to their conversation. And they were _right_ , I couldn’t resist the lure of their camaraderie! I wanted to be, to have, a _part_ of that. Not that time, or maybe even the next time, but at _some_ point I had to get closer to them.”

Eridan was leaning far forward in his chair, casting occasional longing glances at the half-seat worth of sofa not occupied by any part of Ψ. Dualscar took a drink, stroked Ψ’s hair, and continued. “At the same time, I was afraid, you know? I started staying awake more, and eating some of what they gave me – my appetite was coming back. But I’d wait for them to back away from the plate before I took it. A lot of the time, I hid in a pile or under something, where I could see and hear them but still felt sheltered. And they, they were _shameful!_ ” 

Dualscar gave an embarrassed grin. “They’d flop down just anywhere and start jamming! In fact, they took to doing it closer and closer to wherever I was hiding! Once they started right on _top_ of me! I squeaked and scooted out the back of the pile, and then I felt silly, and circled around so I was snuggling against the same pile as them, but the opposite side. They didn’t seem to pay me any notice, though – they never did, unless I was looking at them – so I started getting bolder. The next time they landed on top of me, I sort of half-squeezed in between them. Still covered by the pile, enough to feel secure, but I could feel them, their warmth and their weight. I purred for them, so they’d stay, and they sort of rubbed and patted at me through the pile.”

“What were you piling in?” asked Eridan, when he stopped for another drink. “Er, _they_ , I mean.” He flushed.  
“Pillowy things; cushions, blankets, maybe a lost towel or two,” Dualscar answered. “There were mounds of them, brought in especially for my visitors. Most of the block was covered. And it _was_ rather a three-way pile, so don’t feel bad for suggesting it. Mmm. I say they seemed to ignore me, but that isn’t quite right; they talked _about_ me quite a bit, when they knew I was listening, but they’d only address me directly if they caught me watching them. At first I’d skitter away. But it felt – more and more, like they were _waiting_ for me, like there was something wonderful there – being held out, offered to me, if only I’d take it. And they were so patient.” He hid his face in one hand, remembering. Ψ snrked in his sleep and tucked himself up smaller, rolling to nuzzle Dualscar’s belly. Eridan took the opportunity to quickly shift over onto the seat next to Dualscar recently vacated by Ψ’s horns, and glanced between them. “He’s not listenin’? I think it’s an interestin’ story.”  
Dualscar smiled softly, cupping Ψ’s head with one hand. “He’s heard it before.”

“So they wwere there long enough for you to approach them – wwhat then?”  
“First they started talking to me – I particularly remember the blue said something like, ‘Don’t you worry, sir, we’ll fix you right up,’ and I kind of raised an eyebrow at that, thinking, ‘as soon as you’re done mooning over your moirail, you mean?’ But it turned out that that was _part_ of fixing me up, in the end. Then they started talking _with_ me – including me in the conversations, sort of. They’d leave spaces for my input, and I’d nod, or shake my head, or growl, or go ‘feh!’ or whatever. It took a _while_ for my words to come back – to get in the habit of talking again. And it was pretty distressing! But they were always there to comfort me.”

“Did they stay until you laid your eggs, and then things wwent back to normal?” Eridan put in timidly.  
Dualscar shook his head.  
“Somewhere along the way, I had lost the clutch. I don’t remember; it was probably for the best. The sadness poisoned me. They stayed with me until I was back to normal – talking and laughing, I guess, and,” he fought off a wave of nostalgia, “I never saw them again. I’ve always hoped they were properly rewarded – transferred to a more normal ship, maybe, or even sent to help settle a new planet.”  
“Instead of culled for seein’ a seadwweller at his wweakest?”  
“Quite. I prefer to focus on the positive. By the way, you needn’t worry that caring for me is a full-time occupation! It’s a matter of the quality of attention I receive. Touch is most satisfying, so I only need small amounts of it spread throughout the night. A face-to-face conversation would be similarly satisfying, but would take longer to provide the same benefit.”

“An’ other forms of attention?”  
“As the quality – the directness – of the attention fades, I need ever-greater quantities to be satisfied. I mean, it would take several hours of conversation with someone who’s not actually in the room, oh,” he realized midthought. “ _That’s_ why you spend all day talking with your friends. You’re starving.” Carefully, he put his arms around Eridan and pulled him closer. “I worry,” Dualscar sighed, “that you won’t be able to accept in-person attention, if you’ve _grown up_ practically _without_ it. Like, your body won’t know how to process it properly.”  
“Like a young beatht that only knowth how to thuckle trying to lap from a dish for the firtht time,” Ψ suggested.  
Dualscar smiled. “Aye, I suppose it might be messy, but he can learn.” He focused on the _shh shh_ of the waves against the hull until Eridan slumped forward onto his chest. 

“Are you sure this is okay?” he said, muffled.  
“I’m all right,” said Dualscar, tucking Eridan inside the edge of his coat ( _so cozy!_ ) “And you probably need the practice.”  
“For wwhat?” Eridan asked, as Dualscar petted his back.  
“For…having me pay attention to you?” It felt silly, now that he’d said it.  
“Havven’t wwe been payin’ attention to each other for a couple a’ nights, noww?”  
“I guess you’re right!” Dualscar admitted, and freed one arm to swat at Ψ. “Oh, Ψ, stop pouting, you have _no reason_ to be jealous. I just need to make sure Eridan’s comfortable with me givin’ him attention when he needs it. That’s not to say you shouldn’t still contact your friends,” he said, turning back the other way. “Of course you should! But you can always come to me for a smile or a hug or a kind word, anytime. Even if we’re fighting – especially if we’re fighting! I won’t let you starve,” he promised.

“All a’ this, about you needin’ attention an’ afflictin’ people wwith howw you’re feelin’…” Eridan waved a hand as if to encompass all the nonsense they’d been through that night. “You don’t normally…tell people?”  
“No.” How to explain? “It…would have reduced my usefulness, if people knew what I was capable of. It’s less effective if you know I’m doing it. And…” Dualscar rubbed his wrist self-consciously. “I didn’t want to come off as even more of a monster, see? I’m pretty unnatural already. The fact that I carry eggs weirds some people right out, like your friend Equius.”  
Eridan snickered. “I’m gonna tell him you said that.”  
“What? No! If anything, tell him I referred to him as ‘your friend Sir Zahhak!’”  
Eridan laughed. “All right, I’ll _do_ that!” He shrugged free of Dualscar’s coat, walked over to his usual desk and pulled out his husktop. Evidently, his quarry was available, as he began typing almost immediately after signing on:

**cA: so guess wwho just called you an i quote**  
**cA: your friend sir zahhak**  
**cA: wwhile talkin to me**  
**cT: D -- > Given that he already called me that in person, it’s not hard to say**  
**cT: D -- > But I can only guess he’s using ‘friend’ in the oldest sense, not the current one**  
**cT: D -- > For the irony, perhaps**  
**cA: wwe wwere talkin about howw he wweirds you out**  
**cA: or rather howw him carryin eggs wweirds some people out an youre one of em**  
**cT: D -- > Honestly, the whole situation was une%pectedly overwhelming**  
**cT: D -- > Confronted with two adults, one carrying eggs and the other appro%imately 50% robot, it was hard to say what the weirdest part of the situation was**  
**cT: D -- > The whole thing was almost dreamlike**  
**cA: are you sayin wwe maxed out your wweirdness meter**  
**cT: D -- > 100% tr00, but at least I didn’t run away screaming like a character in some adult vs j00venile horror m00vie**  
**cT: D -- > Anyhow you can inform him I will be referring to him as D001scar from now on**  
**cA: you stop that**

Dualscar wheezed a laugh. When Eridan turned to look at him curiously, he deflected. “You’re gettin’ all indignant with your fins! He’s a trip, isn’t he? Don’t let him get to you, though. You tease him right back!”  
Eridan’s screen pinged again; he turned back hurriedly without replying. His fins flicked up in delight. _A good friend?_

**cA: kar**  
**cG: WHAT’S UP, MY SNUGGLEWEASEL?**  
**cA: so much stuff kar**  
**cA: theres so much i gotta tell you but first things first**  
**cA: do you knoww that movie wwhere the two moirails fix up some guy wwhos broken and dyin an it wwas romantic as shit**  
**cG: …BROWN AND BLUE?**

“’Browwn and Blue?’” suggested Eridan, over his shoulder.  
Dualscar straightened. “They were, in fact! The male was a tart blue, but she tempered him sweeter.”  
Eridan turned back to his screen.

**cG: “THE MOIRALLEGIANCE STRONG ENOUGH FOR THREE.”**  
**cG: FUCK YEAH, IT’S A PALE CLASSIC.**  
**cG: I WATCH IT WITH GAMZEE SOMETIMES.**  
**cG: WHAT ABOUT IT?**  
**cA: he wwas in it**  
**cA: or i mean it wwas about him**  
**cA: or not about him come to think**  
**cG: WHAT?**  
**cG: YOU MEAN DUALSCAR?!?**  
**cG: START OVER FROM THE BEGINNING, YOU SCATTERBRAINED SWEETMEAT!**  
**cA: the story kar**  
**cA: he wwas in the story**  
**cG: …AS THE BROKEN GUY. FUCK.**  
**cG: JUST HOW LONG AGO WAS THIS?**  
**cA: couple swweeps after they shovved off sounded like**  
**cG: WOW, IT’S NOT EVERY NIGHT YOU MEET SOMEONE WHO STARTED A TROPE.**  
**cG: I KIND OF FEEL LIKE I SHOULD GET HIS AUTOGRAPH NOW.**  
**cA: an also a lotta other stuff happened**  
**cA: but the important thing is**  
**cA: ok look you knoww howw you used to say i couldnt die a loneliness**  
**cA: wwell it turns out that aint strictly speakin accurate**  
**cA: wwe gotta feed on attention an emotions or something**  
**cA: like somebody elses not our owwn**  
**cA: so thats wwhy i cant stand to be alone**  
**cG: HAS IT NOT OCCURRED TO YOU THAT YOU ARE CURRENTLY THE _LEAST_ ALONE MEMBER OF OUR LITTLE BAND?**  
**cG: YOU’VE GOT _TWO_ OTHER PEOPLE LIVING WITH YOU!**  
**cG: IF YOU FEED OFF EMOTION NOW, JUST…MAKE THEM HAPPY OR SOMETHING!**  
**cG: OR SAD. FUCK, DO YOU NEED A BALANCED EMOTIONAL DIET? IS THAT WHY YOU’RE SO EASILY UNHINGED?**  
**cA: but kar i dont wwanna ask him to do that**  
**cA: i mean it seems kinda demanding and i dont wanna make him do something for me if he dont really wanna do it**  
**cA: an i don’t know if hed tell me the truth if i just straight asked him**  
**cA: i think hes still hung up on me bein his master**  
**cA: wwhich i guess accordin to what he said technically i still am until after he lays**  
**cA: its kinda more complicated than i thought**  
**cG: WOW, WHAT A SURPRISE.**  
**cG: AN EX-SLAVE HAS SOME ISSUES THAT ARE DIFFICULT TO DEAL WITH! WHO COULD HAVE GUESSED AT THIS SHOCKING DEVELOPMENT?**

Eridan’s fins drooped.

**cG: SORRY. I’M SORRY.**  
**cG: I’M SUCH AN ASSHOLE SOMETIMES.**  
**cA: you aint wwrong though about it bein harder than i thought**  
**cA: an hes got psii but youre so far awway**  
**cA: evveryone is**  
**cG: I PROMISE I STILL LOVE YOU, EVEN WHEN I CAN’T COME SEE YOU.**  
**cA: but i cant evven trust myself anymore because of all this other stuff**  


Dualscar watched closely as Eridan tried to explain his new understanding of his own biology, ready to jump in if it seemed he’d gotten something wrong. It proved to be unnecessary, and soon enough, he noticed himself dozing off. “Mmff. Ψ? I’m going to ‘coon.”

Ψ sat up beside him, stretching his impossibly long arms. “I should too, then, to keep you company.”  
Over at his desk, Eridan gave a small shudder. Dualscar made a point to plod over and give him a hug.  
“Good day, Eridan. Sleep well! And _do_ try to get some sleep, all right? Just have one of your friends you trust spread the news to the others. It’s late, and we’ve all had a long night.”  
“…Okay,” the boy answered, eventually relaxing into the hug. Dualscar gave him a final squeeze and nuzzled his hair fondly before leaving the room.


	13. Shelving the Issue, Part 1

For breakfast the next night, Dualscar toasted the last of the bread, and set out a new batch to rise on the back of the stove while he scrambled enough eggs for all three of them. Ψ came in, yawning and scratching his head.  
“Good evening, darling,” Dualscar said. “Gracious. You really ought to put some more clothes on. How about pants _and_ a shirt, next time?”  
“Eh.” Ψ made a noncommittal grimace. “Who’th gonna thee me? The kid won’t be up for hourth, yet.” He drew Dualscar into his arms and nuzzled his face.  
“Well,” Dualscar capitulated, wanting smooches more than an argument. “I suppose.”  
There was a clomping noise from the stairs.  
_Dammit._

“I better get back to stirring those eggs before they burn,” admitted Dualscar, breaking away reluctantly.  
Ψ let him go, and remained standing near the door. “Don’t worry. I took them off the heat.”  
In fact, the pan was floating several inches above the burner when Dualscar reached it. He poked at them, scraping the bottom enough to see that they weren’t burned, but appeared to be cooked through. _Good enough._  
He turned off the burner and was scraping the pan’s contents onto three plates when Eridan appeared in the doorway, side-eyed the half-dressed Ψ, and edged into the room toward the table, giving Ψ as wide a berth as possible. Dualscar was pleased to see he was, at least, fully dressed, and not still wearing last night’s clothes.

“Good evening, Eridan!” Dualscar called to him, carrying the plates to the table. “I hope you got some sleep yesterday.”  
“Mmm. A little,” Eridan agreed, and yawned as Dualscar set a plate in front of him.  
“Would you care for some tea with your breakfast?” Dualscar asked, as Ψ fetched his half-full, still warm mug from the far side of the counter for him and set out two more.  
“Uhh...yeah, sure. Anythin’ ta wwake me up.” Eridan yawned again. One of the mugs filled itself with water from the sink while the kettle sloshed to and fro for a moment; the mug floated over to join Ψ as he sat down, and the kettle replaced it under the tap.  
“Thank you, sweetie,” Dualscar smiled at Ψ as he sat down to his own plate of toast and eggs. He buttered his toast and tucked in, while Ψ slathered his (and part of his plate) thickly with jam. After a few unsuccessful attempts to convey scrambled eggs to his mouth without them falling off the fork, Eridan made an exasperated noised, piled the eggs on the toast, folded the slice in half and crammed it in his mouth.

“What are your planth for the night?” Ψ asked. As he didn’t seem to be asking anyone in particular, Eridan and Dualscar glanced at each other.  
“Uh...nothin’ in particular,” Eridan offered.  
“More cleaning, I suppose,” Dualscar said with a sigh. He braced his hand on the table as he got up to start the dishes. “Eridan, how about we get you started on the book cataloging project? If you do at least a shelf or two per night, it’ll feel more manageable.”

“Yeah, all right.” Eridan stood up from the table and stretched. Dualscar turned on the burner under the kettle and began assembling Eridan’s mug of tea. “Oh, wwait, I wwas gonna go check on that busted porthole first.”  
“I can show you where it ith,” Ψ offered with a grin. Eridan looked nonplussed.  
“Put on a shirt first,” Dualscar suggested, then looked over at Ψ and narrowly avoided facepalming himself with a soapy hand. “No, wait, _first_ go wash the jam off your face, _then_ put a shirt on.”  
“Right!” said Ψ, cheer undimmed. “I’ll go get cleaned up and meet you. It’th jutht down the way.” He pointed with his mug, which remained floating in place as he set off up the stairs. His jam-smeared plate joined Dualscar’s in the sink.  
Eridan sighed, and set off down the hall following the mug, leaving Dualscar to fetch his dishes from the table.

Once in the room, the problem was obvious: one of the bookcases on the far wall had a hole of missing books that extended from eye level to the shelf immediately below. Eridan was poking around in it.  
“The wwood’s all wwarped awway from the back a’ the shelvves,” he complained. “Wwe might havve to trash the whole case.”  
“We probably can’t repair the warped wood,” Dualscar agreed. “But we might be able to just tear it off and stick a new back on it. Not like it’ll show!”  
For a moment, they both considered the imposing piece of furniture, looking for the best angle from which to tackle the job.  
“...We’ll have to pull it away from the wall to see the extent of the damage,” Dualscar concluded reluctantly. “And also, to fix the porthole, I suppose.”  
“Huh. Somehoww, I wwas picturin’ Psii doin’ somethin’ wwith it from the outside. Like, floatin’ me ovver wwith a hammer an’ nails, or somethin’.” He shrugged. “Don’t ask me wwhy. All right, I guess wwe better start by takin’ the books off?”  
“That’s probably wise,” Dualscar said, nodding. “What if we just pile them by the table for now? And those could be the books you start the cataloging with?” He grabbed a couple of titles from the top shelf, to forestall the need for Eridan to stand on a chair. “I think I heard Ψ running the shower, but he shouldn’t be long.”

The shelf had barely been emptied before Ψ appeared once more, hair damp, thankfully wearing both pants _and_ a shirt on the appropriate limbs. “Right, tho you want it pulled out now?” he suggested brightly.  
“Yes, go ahead,” said Dualscar, stepping back from the bookcase. “Eridan, why don’t you take a quick break? Have some of your tea to wash the dust out of your throat.”  
Eridan gave Dualscar a grin, and took a quick slug from his cooled mug sitting on the table. He looked expectantly toward Ψ. For a long moment, nothing moved. Then, Ψ frowned.  
“The back’th all warped,” he explained. “I’m afraid it’th gonna thcrape along the thideth of the oneth nektht to it. Here, maybe I can hold it in-“  
There were some alarming small cracking noises, and a single loud scraping sound, as the bookcase pulled free of its neighbors.  
“Shit. Thorry.”  
“It doesn’t look too bad,” Dualscar reassured him, stepping forward to run a hand over the new scrape on the next bookcase. “We could buff this out with some sandpaper, if we decide it needs doing.” He turned his attention to the warped bookcase. “If we can fix this one up, we can just put it back where it was.” He ran a hand over it. “Oh! No wonder it warped. It’s not solid wood, it’s some kind of unsealed composite. Fine for dry environments, I suppose, but not so good around here!”  
Strange, though. The sides and the shelves were hardwood, beyond a doubt.  
“Oh,” Eridan turned away from examining the porthole. “I think that might’a been – does the hardwware match?”  
Dualscar ceased picking at the nails holding the back on and turned his attention to the insides. “No,” he concluded with surprise, after a cursory inspection of the screws on the shelf brackets: not only a different size and type of hardware, but older and not galvanized.  
Eridan nodded decisively. “Thought so! These musta’ been some a’ the shelvves I looted durin’ a FLARP campaign. They wwere built-in, but I thought they wwere too nice to leavve behind.” He waved a hand, giving Dualscar a self-deprecating grin. “So I just slapped a shitty back on ‘em so I could movve ‘em around wwithout it collapsin’ on me.”  
“Let’s do the same thing, but with _nicer_ backs this time,” said Dualscar, grinning back.

Dualscar turned and prodded at the warped section a final time. “Lucky thing it was salt water, I suppose, or it might have gone moldy as well,” he mused.  
“You want the back off, then?” Ψ asked.  
“Yeah, wwe’ll probably havve to trash it,” Eridan confirmed. “Or…the warped part, at least?” He looked at Dualscar for confirmation.  
“We could save it to burn at a bonfire,” Dualscar suggested, thinking ahead. “Do people still have parties on the solstice? We used to have fires on every corner. And _most_ of them were intentional.”  
“Here, let me thet thith down,” Ψ said. The bookcase tipped forward to lie flat on its front. There was a series of pops, cracks, and alarming creaks as the back worked itself free. “I’ll jutht put it down in thtorage for now.” The board (and a handful of shiny nails) maneuvered gently out the door, and presumably down into the hold.  
“Try to prop it up someplace dry, if you could,” Dualscar said.  
“And yeah, people havve parties in wwinter, I guess,” Eridan supplied at last. “A’ course, it’s like any kinda gatherin’, wwhere some people like ta go out and others just stay home.”  
_And which are you, I have no need to wonder?_ Dualscar smiled to himself. Having people around would always be preferable to _not_.

The porthole turned out to have a broken bolt on the hinge that kept it from sealing properly. The glass and its frame were undamaged, but Eridan merely grimaced when asked if he had an extra bolt, and Dualscar deemed it unwise to suspend the library project in favor of a potentially nights-long search of the ship for a replacement part.  
“Ψ, will you set this aside with your temperature sensors, and ask Equius if he can give you an unbroken one next time you visit?”  
“I’m wearing them now.” Ψ held up an arm so the sleeve fell back from his wrist, pocketing the bolt with his other hand.  
“So you are. I suppose they’re turned on?”  
There was a tiny _click_. Ψ grinned at him.  
“Let me add a note to that activity log, before I forget.”  
( _/after showering, early evening_ )

Eridan had set up his husktop on the table in the interim, and loaded his prototype catalog. Dualscar snooped a look over his shoulder. “So how’ve you got it set up so far?”  
“I, uh, may havve gone a bit overboard,” the boy admitted sheepishly, as Dualscar took in the immense sprawl of columns.  
Title, author, genre, fiction or non, keywords one through five, color, height, width. _”Nonsense,_ this is fine!” _For a start, anyway._ “’Author’ should be two fields, one for each name, and you might want a way to tag pseudonyms, or just a field for miscellaneous notes.”  
Eridan made a few adjustments. “Should I add a column for ‘Depth?’”  
“What, like, thickness?” A smile stretched across Dualscar’s face as he considered. “Sure! It’s probably the best way we’ve got for tellin’ weighty tomes from quick reads at a glance. A glance at the _catalog,_ anyway. Let’s dig up a measuring stick so you can get started.”

“I am _going_ to tackle this next,” Dualscar threatened, after it took twenty minutes of tearing apart Eridan’s desk to turn up one twelve-inch ruler.  
“Suit yourself,” Eridan said distractedly, brushing dust off his cuffs onto the floor. He absentmindedly plopped a pile of notepads, cards, and assorted other papers into a drawer that _might’ve_ been the one it came out of, tried to shut the drawer, pulled it back open, rearranged the pile, and shoved it back in; it _mostly_ shut.  
“I found thomething with regular markingth on it,” Ψ said when they returned to their project-in-progress; he’d apparently found a place for the loose shelves in the meantime, as they were no longer on the floor. “Maybe you could uthe thith?”  
“Hmm!” A level! And longer than the ruler by at least half a foot. “That’ll help with the bigger books, for sure! Thank you, Ψ.”  
Eridan settled back at the table, setting the ruler on top of one of the book stacks beside it. “There’s gotta be a retractable tape measure around here somewwhere,” he huffed, as Ψ wandered back out of the room.  
“These will do,” Dualscar insisted, unwilling to get distracted again so soon. He pointed to the screen to get Eridan back on task. “Are you going to make ‘Genre’ a dropdown menu, to save time?” 

“Eh, I thought about it, but I didn’t wwant to limit myself to the ones I could think of at the time,” Eridan said. “I mean, you _can_ add more options later, but it’s kind of a pain. And wwhat about the ones that’re, like, humor-horror-romance?”  
Dualscar gave him a disappointed look. “Oh, but it’d be so much more easily searchable to have only one genre in each field, wouldn’t it?”  
“Dammit.” Eridan sighed, and started fiddling with the field specifications. “You’re right.”  
He added another two columns, Genre 2 and 3, that were duplicates of the first, with the same dropdown choices (Dualscar helped him brainstorm,) before claiming that anything with more than three genres was pushing it, and probably trying too hard besides. “I can alwways add a fourth, _if_ I find a book I think is wworth it.”  
“What about…things you _know_ are false, presented as truth? You’re bound to have a few of those. For historical value, at least, and I imagine you’d want to keep them for the same reason.”  
“Stuff that wwas true at the time?” Eridan rubbed his mouth with one hand.  
“Well, no,” Dualscar admitted. “Sometimes people try to sell you a pack of lies dressed up nice, so’s to make them more palatable. It mightn’t ever have been true, or even believed, only _sold_ like truth. But if you only read the one book, you’d think it _was_ true. ‘Invented Nonfiction,’ maybe?”  
“’Lies Sold as Truth,’” Eridan countered with a smile. “You’re right, though. I’vve got some out-of-date reference books that I don’t wwanna get rid of, but I sure as hell wwouldn’t actually _use._ ” After some dithering, he wound up adding “Disproved Nonfiction” as one of the options, turning the “fiction/non” field into another dropdown menu.  
Ψ stuck his head back in the door. “That bowl in the kitchen ith getting kinda full.”  
“Oh! _The bread!_ I’ll be back in a bit.”

Dualscar shaped a number of small round loaves, this time, and threw together a pot of mixed leftover vegetable and fish bits to simmer while they worked. Eridan, he was pleased to note, was about halfway through the first stack of books when he returned, working slowly but steadily. “Run into anything unexpected?”  
“Not so far,” the boy told him.  
Dualscar was prowling around the shelves, examining the titles. “Would you say this room has a good cross-section of the whole collection?”  
“Like, one a’ evverythin’?” Eridan looked around with a slight frown, hands still on the keyboard. “Maybe not. It’s kinda small an’ far awway, so I wwas mostly shovvin’ stuff I already read in here. Book storage, more like.” He nodded toward one wall. “It’s got one a’ those duplicate encyclopedia sets, though.”  
Dualscar grimaced. “So there’s a strong possibility you won’t want to keep all of the books in here. Damn, I wish we had some boxes, or bags, or something to store discards in while we work!”  
Eridan stopped typing to look at him. “Maybe we should’ve started upstairs after all,” he suggested.  
Ψ drifted in again. “There’re thome crateth downthtairth,” he said, “but I couldn’t figure out the lids, and the thlatth might be too thick for bookth.” He offered his other finds to Dualscar in one metal palm. “Thethe were all I could find, but I don’t know if they’ll work.”

“Hmm.” Dualscar picked up the larger of the bolts. “The other one’s clearly too small, you’re right. This one, we _might_ get to work if we drilled out the socket a bit wider.” He frowned at it. “That would make the hinge more fragile, though, and I don’t know how much room there is to spare.”  
“Well…” Ψ hesitated, reluctant to continue.  
Dualscar waved him on. “Go on, make your unpalatable suggestion. Whatever you’ve got, let’s hear it.”  
“We _could_ cannabalithe one from the _unuthed_ part of the ship,” Ψ said. “We’d thtill have a room getting wet, but it’d be one you don’t need.”  
Now it was Dualscar’s turn to hesitate, and he wasn’t sure why. “I’m…reluctant to invite further water damage into an area that isn’t being monitored,” he concluded eventually. “Even if it _is_ already abandoned, it’s still part of the same structure we’re living in.”  
Eridan was peering at the dull bolts in Ψ’s gleaming hand. “Could wwe just…wwire it shut?” he suggested. “I had ta do that wwith my glasses once. Looked funny and I couldn’t fold ‘em up, but it held until I could get a proper fix.”  
“Oh!” Ψ and Dualscar both brightened at the prospect. “Yeah, probably! I think I know where there’th thome wire.”  
Ψ was off down the hall in a blink. 

Dualscar turned back to Eridan. “Right! Now, before you get too far with the cataloging, I want to make sure there isn’t something we’ve missed that ought to be recorded for each book. And for that, I think we ought to look over as wide a selection of books as possible – not noting anything down about each one, just checking whether or not they can be fully captured by the system that’s in place.” He was jotting down the field names from the database on his notepad as he spoke. “Which room has the most _kinds_ of books, do you think?”  
“Probably the one near my room,” Eridan said.  
A sort of skittering-scraping sound came from the porthole. Dualscar walked over and tried it; it could be opened only a crack, but the seal looked sound when it was shut.  
“That all right?” Ψ hollered from outside.  
“Yes, it looks good! Thanks, Ψ! Come on back in, we’re moving upstairs after all.”

Eridan reinstalled his husktop on the desk behind the dictionary stand, spreadsheet open so he could refer back to it easily. Dualscar just used his handwritten notes, carefully examining each title for suitability. Everything on the first bookcase seemed like a good fit for the existing fields. He moved on and began paying more attention to the content of what he was looking at. Really, this library was _distractingly_ well-stocked. _Suitable for reading oneself to sleep, I suppose, and appropriately stationed for the purpose._  
Between a field guide to fish (ooh, that might come in handy!) and a book on ship building (might be useful if they wanted to attempt large-scale repairs?), Dualscar noticed a slim paperback volume, once colorful, but very worn. He pulled it out and examined it. Depending on whether you read the cover or the spine label, it was either “101 Puns” or “Puns 101.”  
_Humor?_ he wondered. _Or…nonfiction writing guide? Both?_ He opened it with care.

Snickering soon emerged from his corner; he walked forward, compelled to share with the room. “’What lies at the bottom of the ocean and worries?’” he asked rhetorically. “’A _nervous wreck!_ ’”  
Ψ snorted, and patted his head. “We’re gonna get you one a’ thothe ‘Pleathe Don’t Incorrige’ thignth, okay?”  
“Eh?” exclaimed a befuddled Eridan, looking up from his own book.  
“For ‘incorrigible punsters,’” Dualscar explained, smiling at them both.  
“Ohhh.” Eridan cocked his head, thinking. “Wwait, I think I’vve read that joke somewwhere before.”  
“Maybe here?” Dualscar offered the book he’d been reading; Eridan took it and glanced at the cover.  
“Yeah!…Wwait, is _this_ wwhat brought this on?!”  
“Maaaybe,” admitted Dualscar, trying to look contrite. “I just, I really like puns, okay? I can’t help it sometimes.”

Ψ smirked. “Not my kinda thing. I prefer dirty limerickth.”  
Dualscar rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, you _liiike_ …” A sudden thought struck him; a memory? He cut in excitedly.  
“Ooh! Wait, wait! Ψ, I know you know this one.” He gestured with one hand, ‘I saw a man down on the corner asking for change!’ and then with the other in response, ‘What did you do?’”  
“I _followed_ him!” Ψ said, pat. Then he blinked in confusion.  
“…I don’t _get_ it,” Eridan complained. Dualscar ruffled his hair.  
“I’ll explain later.”  
“Wait, I _did_ , didn’t I? Who wath he, again…?!?”

“In the meantime,” Dualscar told Eridan, “To avoid such distractions in the future, I’m calling for the institution of a new policy. When you find something you absolutely _have_ to drop everything and read _right now_ …” He set his book down decisively on the desk, and stepped away from it. “Put in in a pile. And since we can’t go pulling _every_ book, or they’ll get all out of order and never get cataloged, how about a two-book maximum per person?”  
Eridan dithered, torn. “I guess that…sounds wwise…” he concluded, finally shutting his book and setting it aside with a sigh. He scooted back behind the end table and knelt down to check the lower shelves.  
“Wellll,” Dualscar drawled. “ _I_ know how it is. Even I can’t resist a good-looking back side.”  
Eridan looked up too fast, knocked his horns against the table, and yelped.  
“On a _book!_ ” Laughing, Dualscar swatted off Ψ’s groping hands. “The back of a _book,_ I meant! How about a _six_ book limit, then?”  
“Sounds fair,” came Eridan’s voice from behind the furniture.

They worked on steadily in silence for a few minutes more. “’Genre’ is going to have to be your call,” Dualscar reported, now staring at a shelf of half-finished series. “I think I found that pirate zombie ghost witch voodoo whatever that you mentioned before.”  
“It’ll all go under ‘Paranormal,’” Eridan decreed, “unless I decide the ‘Pirate’ part is more important.” A tower of books had appeared on the end table while Dualscar’s back was turned. “An’ I’m decidin’ that _noww_. The pirate part is more important to _me_ , an’ it’s _my_ library, so it goes first.”  
Appreciating his decisiveness, Dualscar cleared his throat meaningfully in Eridan’s direction. “That ‘To Read’ pile can stop getting taller _any time now._ ”  
A small hand wobbled for a moment before setting another book firmly on top of the stack; it appeared to dither over the other titles for a moment before tugging a different book out from the middle of the stack and disappearing behind the easy chair again. There were some shifting-clunking noises of books being moved around on a shelf.

Meanwhile, Ψ had found an enormous book  
“?”  
that he was obviously having trouble making heads or tails of;  
“??”  
when he’d opened it, the pages had started to fold out in weird ways. He presented it to Dualscar.  
_”??!”_  
“That’s an atlas, dear,” Dualscar told him, “with fold-out maps. It’ll go with non-fiction, or maybe on an “oversized” shelf. Here, let me help.” He started to fold the maps back in, following the creases. “That reminds me - hmm?” Ψ was gesturing silently at the chair across the room with a wide grin. After a moment’s silence, Dualscar realized why. He cleared his throat again. “Do I hear pages turning?”  
There was a thump of a book hitting the floor; the stuffed chair scooted forwards as Eridan, startled, knocked into the back of it. A moment later, he crawled out from behind it, looking rather dusty and sheepish.  
“Er,” he offered. “I, uh, think I’vve finished that shelf.”  
“Oh, good. Listen, Ψ just reminded me that we forgot to include a field for _where_ the book is located!”  
Eridan smacked his forehead. “Augh!” He scrambled upright and over to the desk. “I better update the ones I already did, before I start addin’ any more.”  
“For now, let’s just note which room it’s in. We can get fancy with which shelf later, if we want.”  
“All right!” Eridan clicked around for a few minutes before looking up. “I think that’ll handle most of it; we’ve gone through almost the whole room. Anythin’ else can be caught in the “notes” field unless there turns out to be a lot a’ the same.”  
“Let’s break for lunch, then,” Dualscar suggested. “I’ve made soup _and_ bread bowls!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Americans may recognize this joke with “a black man” and “I voted for him.”


	14. Shelving the Issue, Part 2

As Ψ chirred happily at Dualscar’s pulling out a chair for him, Eridan scooted his own chair away, closer to Dualscar’s seat, in a way that was clearly meant to be more subtle than he actually managed.  
_Why is Ψ frightening to him?_ Dualscar wondered. “Has Ψ threatened you in some way?” he asked in a low voice as he passed Eridan his meal.  
“Nnnnooo,” Eridan concluded quietly after a pause, “nothin’ you wweren’t _there_ for, anywway. But he like…makes me kinda uneasy? Sets me on edge, somehoww.”  
Dualscar was stumped. “I mean, he’s not, like, physically imposing,” he countered. “He’s _tall_ , but he’s built like a beanpole and looks like a stiff breeze would knock him over, assuming it could find enough surface area to push on.”  
Dualscar considered Ψ’s appearance, reacquainting himself with the old and trying to incorporate the new: an amalgam of flesh with flashes of metal showing, clothes new and neat and unfamiliar, messy hair, sassy fangs, currently attempting to drink soup by the spoonful and succeeding about as well as could be expected. _Oh well, I’d probably have to wash that shirt soon regardless._  
“…I guess he might look strange?” Dualscar admitted. “But I don’t think he looks particularly threatening. Not like a soldier. You must’ve seen some of those on the ship?” he realized. “All dressed in uniforms and very severe an’ dignified looking. Now _they_ were what I’d call imposing. Military bearing all through – backs straight as rulers and never a toe out of line, once their training took. Could stare right into your soul, some of ‘em. Brr.”  
“Psii isn’t like that, though,” Eridan protested. He looked curiously at Dualscar. “An’ neither are you.”

“I was never _in_ the military,” Dualscar explained, “I never made it any farther than the merchant marine. I’m Class M.”  
“Er…that, wwhat…”  
“Okay, right,” Dualscar continued from the beginning, mentally revising downward the amount Eridan actually knew about the military, despite the leather-bound “Great Naval Battles” series upstairs. “Class M is, well, first, there’s Class A. That’s most people, and it’s generally taken to mean ‘anything, anywhere.’ There’s no real restrictions on where you can be sent or what you can do when you get there; you can perform normal duties in a normal way.” He pointed to himself. “Class M is ‘medical;’ it means I’ve got a condition that limits either the circumstances of my deployment or the performance of my duties, but is not such a detriment or hazard as to warrant culling.”  
He grinned. “In most cases, you’ll find the ‘M’ just stands for ‘moirail.’ There are plenty of important people who drag around a hanger-on, and even some who genuinely can’t perform well without them. Plenty more are just keeping their diamond off the front lines, and giving themselves some peace of mind by doing so.”

“Wwhat about _unimportant_ people?”  
“Hmm, well…” Dualscar rubbed his chin, considering. “If they’re about equal in rank or ability, it’s not too hard for moirails to get deployed together, especially in the green-blue range. Greens with blue officers tend to make up the front lines.” He waved a hand to indicate parts of the spectrum. “In the red-yellow range, and up into green sometimes, you get not so much cannon fodder as specialty strike teams, assembled around people with useful abilities. They’ll typically get a Class A designation with a footnote detailing what they can do and what they’re good at. And then someone, maybe one of those aforementioned hangers-on, is responsible for seeing that they’re not going to waste. Someone like Sollux, for instance. What’s he do?”  
“He flies,” Eridan said, unamused.  
Dualscar likewise rolled his eyes. “I mean, obviously he _flies_ , but aeronautics isn’t his field of study, or he’d be doing it in a _machine!_ What’s he do for _himself_ , for his own amusement?”  
“Oh. Uh, computers. He’s a hacker, does coding and vviruses and stuff.”  
“Ah, okay. He might wind up in an espionage unit, then, flying tiny cameras around remotely, snooping on messages, something like that.”

Eridan _hmf_ ed, not convinced. “So you’re…medical,” he concluded. “For bein’ a breeder?”  
Dualscar nodded. “Yes, there’s no good way to send me on a normal deployment. I can’t prevent myself from going into heat every sweep, during which time I’m not only half out of my head, I’m also _very distracting_ to anyone within a few miles of my scent. And seadwellers serve at the _officer_ level, which compounds the problem! Rather than pull me out when I go crazy and substitute someone who doesn’t know what’s going on in my place, it’s better for morale to keep the same chain of command the whole time, and leave me out of it entirely.”  
“That’s…” The boy seemed to be chewing it over and finding it distasteful. “Fair, but also not?” He gave Dualscar a sour look.  
_I suppose he’s worrying “what does this mean for me?”_ Dualscar wasn’t sure of the answer, though he could offer reassurances.  
“Remember, seadwellers don’t generally see combat. There’s too much risk of losing centuries of knowledge to a lucky shot.”  
“Geh. I hadn’t thought a’ that. Wwhy all the trainin’, then? I mean, growwnup seadwwellers are alwways showwn wwith guns an’ swwords an’ stuff –“  
“Mmm, military discipline, I suppose. Or to develop a sense of belonging to the group you’re working with. Plus, you have to learn a thing yourself if you want to be able to tell if others are doing it wrong.”  
“So they nevver _use_ any a’ that junk?”  
“…Well, they use it when posing for photos.” 

“I’d say he _sounds_ wwrong too, but I don’t understand _wwhy_ ,” Eridan complained a little later, as he scraped tiny spoonfuls of bread off the inside of his bowl. “I mean, a lot of times he don’t make noise at _all_ , and it’s _freaky_ , but that isn’t wwhat I _mean_.”  
“Sounds wrong…?” Dualscar mused for a moment. “You mean his voice,” he realized suddenly. “ _Oh_. Yes. Besides the constant-psionics static, which you’ve heard from Sollux…You’re used to juvenile voices, aren’t you? He has, um, you haven’t…” Dualscar touched his throat, gathering his thoughts. “That’s harmonics from his secondary voice box. It adds a sort of chirp, or trill, behind his words. You’ll start hearing it more as your friends hit their adult molts – higher-pitched trills in the hot range, lower-pitched growls in the coolbloods, and the greens can go either way; they’re always kind of a muddle.”  
“But…you don’t…growwl?” Eridan gave him a worried look.  
Dualscar shook his head. “No. It tended to frighten people when I was trying to talk them down and it sounded like a command. I guess I fought against it so long that my growlbox just…deactivated. I can _false_ -trill, though, if I need to flatter a lover. It’s somewhat demeaning, but _very_ handy, as the sort of people who need the ego boost actually _prefer_ to think me a fool – in fact, I think they’d be disappointed to learn I _wasn’t_.”  
“So you _trill?!_ ”

Dualscar shrugged. “I’m always careful to call it a false trill, because…” He sighed. “It’s pretty obvious, to someone who knows what a _real_ trill sounds like, that mine comes from the wrong part of the throat – the speech centers – which means it’s entirely voluntary, not instinctive. If you don’t know or don’t _care_ , however, it sounds like I’m saying,” he raised his voice to a falsetto, “ _Oh, Commander, you look so sexy with your shirt hanging half off like that!_ ”  
Eridan snorted, and outright laughed as Dualscar continued, “Honestly, it just looked like he was wearing someone else’s shirt. Like, cut to fit _me_ , but hung on someone built more like Ψ. But…yeah,” he said, belatedly returning to the point, “generally, the secondary voice box is _always_ active while someone’s speaking, or humming, or anything; you can’t turn it on and off. That’s just how Ψ _sounds._ ”

“Wwhat about…” Eridan looked skeptical. “In movvies, though. Those’re adults acting, right? But they don’t sound like that.”  
“Based on what I know,” said Dualscar, “a surprising amount of the final soundtrack is overdubbed after filming. It could be that everything released on-planet is the wriggler-appropriate version, re-recorded with underdeveloped voices. What do you think?”  
Eridan thought about it. “I’d havve to ask Kar,” he concluded. “But there are a feww vvoices that come to mind as “commandin’,” an’ I’m bettin’ they left the growwls in on those.”  
Eridan slumped on the table, considering, chin in hand, then stared in horrified fascination as Ψ picked up his mostly-empty bowl and began tearing it apart with his fangs.  
“Ψ. Smaller bites, please. I don’t want you to choke.”  
“Grmmnff. Mm’kay.”  
They finished their meal in peace and relative quiet, aside from the slurping.

The next hour or so, Dualscar spent in preparation, getting Eridan ready to work on the cataloging independently.  
“Want me to fetch down books?” Ψ asked.  
Eridan shook his head. “No, I wwant to at least try doing it myself at first.”  
A portable stepladder was retrieved from the hold, cleaned enough to be useful, and installed temporarily at the shelves nearest Eridan’s workstation.  
“All right. While you’re at that, I’m going to start cleaning.”

Dualscar could barely keep himself from rubbing his hands together in gleeful anticipation. “Just holler if you need me!” he called down the hall over his shoulder. Eridan made an answering noise of acknowledgement.  
“What’th that all about?” said Ψ curiously, following behind. “You look like you’re about to thtart danthing.”  
“ _Eeeeeee!_ ” Dualscar gave a quiet squeal of delight, beckoning Ψ closer as he pushed open a nearby door. In tones of hushed reverence, he said, “I get to poke around his _room.” Finally!_

The desk was a few hour’s work all on its own, he suspected, but that was no reason not to nose around a bit first. The clutter that had improved somewhat during Sollux’s visit was quickly reverting to form, including clothing and books scattered across the floor, chairs, wardrobe, and ‘coonside table.  
“Hmmm. Let’s see. Ψ, can you pile the books up next to the door for now? Once we’re sure we’ve found them all, you can deliver them to Eridan. He can catalog anything he wants to keep in here and then send it back. The clothes, now…”  
“We could put them on the dethk, but you’ll probably want to work there,” Ψ said. Books began sailing across the room and forming a neat stack by the door. “How about I hold them up, and you can dethide if they need cleaning or not?”  
“Good idea! I’ll clear off the desk and sort one drawer at a time. Get the clothes lined up and give them a good shake in case they got dusty; I’ll check them all together.”

Dualscar hit a snag almost immediately, as he started unpacking pens, papers, and other fiddly bits of deskware from the first drawer. He turned. “Ψ, can you help me find some boxes, or something to sort into? Some kind of shallow container. I’ll need several.”  
“Sure, I’ll go look around,” Ψ agreed. “It might be a few minuteth, but you can look over the clotheth in the meantime. Jutht tug them down if they need to go in the laundry bin.” He gestured across the room as he left, where a line of clothes was indeed hovering around eye-height with the bin conveniently nearby.  
_If we had an empty desk, I could use those drawers for sorting,_ Dualscar mused as he looked over the clothes. Most were fine. A few had dust splotches that were easily brushed off. One pair of pants was inside-out; when he reversed it, it seemed to have a soup stain on it, so he tossed it in the hamper, making a mental note to treat the stain before sending it through the washer. For the rest, he searched out hangers and returned them to the wardrobe (another horrifying mess, but not one he could tackle without Eridan’s input and a mandatory _Does this still fit_ fashion show.)

With the books and clothes off the floor, the room looked much cleaner. There was still clutter, but not as much of it, and nothing like as large. Dualscar returned all the shiny bits to the dressing table where the heaps of assorted jewelry sat. _All those chains are going to get terribly tangled._ Well, perhaps Ψ wouldn’t mind untangling them; it would give him something to do. _And keep me from going mad trying to finesse them apart without breaking them._  
A different kind of shine came as something caught the light from the floor near the recuperacoon. Focusing on it, Dualscar could make out a corner of something glossy and rumpled. _Oh, I **wonder** what **that** could be,_ he lied, reaching for it.

It was well wedged in, and absolutely unsurprising once retrieved: a conciliatory magazine. _Ha, I **knew** he was longing for pale._ The content, to Dualscar’s eyes, was fairly tame, but the photos were well staged and the poses were certainly titillating enough. He flipped through it.  
…Here was a troll sitting in the center of a ruined room, surrounded by torn pillows and smashed ceramics, face flushed with blood, and yes, they needed someone to calm them, but was he really the one to do it?  
…Here were two trolls in the midst of a very unfair fight, the weaker one obviously terrified and wanting out, the stronger one too furious to see reason, and it would be _so easy_ to break them apart, to slap that clawed hand aside as it reached out to grab an already-torn shirtfront…  
…Here was a lone troll looking all soft and vulnerable, scuffed and still scared from a fight, in a nest of pillows. Dualscar trailed a fingertip down the young face in the photo. They weren’t _eating_ properly, or taking care of their hurts – 

Ψ clanked back in through the open door. “Anything good?”  
“Eh, the usual,” said Dualscar, quickly replacing the thing back where he’d found it. “More sad than sordid, I’m tempted to say.”  
Ψ laughed. “But you won’t.”  
“Of course not! In fact, I probably shouldn’t say anything at all.”  
“Here.” Ψ held forth the loaf pans they’d used for bread a few nights before. “Thethe should work, I think.”  
“You’re right! Perfect, Ψ, thank you!” Dualscar turned the pans over in his hands and began unstacking them. “Why didn’t I think of that? Incidentally, it’s good to see you on your feet.”  
Ψ spread his arms expansively. “Well, you thaid I can cheat on the _thtairth_ , not the hallwayth!” He parked his butt on a small bare patch of the desk, laughing when Dualscar shooed him off to put pans there. 

“Well, if you’re so willing to get physical…” Dualscar wiggled his eyebrows, grinning. “How about…sweeping the floor?”  
“Sure!” Ψ turned to face him, more serious. “You meant, like, literally, right?”  
“Yes, literally!”  
“ _Oh good!_ ” Ψ gestured to his forehead. “I wathn’t sure about the eyebrow thing.”  
“Remember that closet with the mops and brooms? You can get a broom and dustpan from there. Leave the mops for now; that’s a bigger job than I’m willing to tackle tonight. And here, I’ve found a few mugs and plates, so leave those in the galley sink on the way by, if you would be so kind.”  
Dualscar gave Ψ a quick kiss in thanks and sat back down at the desk as Ψ headed out the door again with a wave of acknowledgement. _Metal on wood; I wonder if I’ll ever get used to that sound._ “Oh, and Ψ, would you mind dropping off these books with Eridan when you get back? And remember, not a word about the magazine.”

He managed pretty well, at least until dinner, when they compared banal stories of _how was your night._ Eridan had made good progress, by the sound of things, and Dualscar couldn’t resist sharing his own success.  
“I cleaned your room!” he said brightly. “Got the desk all organized with the good pens, tossed a bunch of junk, and saved a few things for you to decide if you want to keep them or not. And we got everything picked up off the floor, for once.”  
“Er.” Eridan looked faintly alarmed. “ _Everything_ , you say…”  
Dualscar hastened to reassure him, waving a hand dismissively. “No, I’m not going to mention the magazine hidden under your recuperacoon, so don’t worry.”

Dualscar pillowed his chin on his hand and gazed seriously at Eridan, who appeared to be trying to sink through the table facefirst, his fins flapping in embarrassment. “But if there’s ever anything you _want_ to talk about, I’m always willing to talk.”  
“Gnah,” said Eridan, wrapping his arms tighter over his head. “Something else! Let’s talk about _anything_ else!”  
“Tho how’th Little Me doing with your old moirail?” asked Ψ, mimicking Dualscar’s posture.  
“Anything _but that!_ ” Eridan wailed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And I went through and took out all the typos I could find in the previous chapters. If you notice any, like if Ψ's missing his lisp or something, please point it out so I can fix it!


End file.
